


Look

by Bones (thepiesandthebees)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, M/M, Punk Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-26
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-09 03:38:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 32,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3234860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepiesandthebees/pseuds/Bones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean attends high school with his bisexual brother, Sam. Lately, Dean has noticed that a broody, punk guy has taken an interest in Sam. He thinks it could be fun to set the two of them up. Plans go astray, however--like they tend to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Solitude

Dean nudged his little brother playfully. “Dude, you totally got some action last night,” he said with a grin. 

Sam smiled sheepishly. “I told you. It wasn’t like that. We were just fooling around a bit.”

“Who was it? Jo? Benny? Anna? Gabe! It was Gabe, wasn’t it?”

Sam’s blush spread ear to ear. “Shout it to the entire school, why don’t you?”

Dean chuckled. Sam had come out as bisexual just after his long-term girlfriend, Jessica, had transferred to another high school—effectively ending their relationship. Dean, being a good big brother, always supported Sam’s exploration of his newly discovered sexual proclivities. Sam had chosen to take on casual relationships with both men and women until he found someone he really connected with. Dean didn’t know if that was a good plan, but he wanted his brother to be happy.

When the first bell rang, they closed their lockers and started for class. One their way through the halls, they passed a muscular man in a worn, black leather jacket and ripped blue jeans. He wore black combat boots and a grave expression. Brown waves were messily tossed about his head, as if he’d just rolled out of bed and into a gust of wind. The curling black lines of a tattoo peeked out from the collar of his gray shirt on the right side of his neck. Combined with his multiple piercings, he pulled off a laidback, punk look. Six silver hoops lined the outside of his right ear, two adorned his left eyebrow, and a single one pierced the left of his bottom lip.

Dean had seen the guy several times in passing, and it hadn’t escaped his notice that Broody McBroodster liked to sneak a glance at Sam at every opportunity. Dean wasn’t sure if the guy was just too shy to say anything, or if he was intimidated by Sam’s many attractive “friends.”

“Hey, do you know who that guy was?” Dean asked Sam when they got to class.

Sam’s brows knit together. “What guy?”

“Y’know, the punk guy. Brown hair, blue eyes, leather jacket, piercings like he took a nail gun to his head.”

Sam shrugged. “Seen him around, but I’ve never talked to him.”

Dean hummed to himself in thought. This could be fun.

#

“I could help you out,” Dean said, leaning against his PE locker with his arms folded over his chest.

Punk guy sat on a bench between the rows of lockers. He wasn’t wearing his shirt, revealing toned muscle and the full extent of his tattoos. A crescent moon covered his right shoulder. Curled around it were the wings of a dove. The dove seemed to look over the moon with its one visible eye. The feathers of its wings turned into curling lines around the base of the guy’s neck. The moon seemed to cry small black drops leading down to the guy’s elbow where they became rippling lines. The lines steadied into rings as they cascaded down the guy’s forearm. The underside of his arm was covered in rippled lines, giving the appearance of the ocean’s surface, while the smooth top lines formed the recognizable ellipse of Saturn’s rings surrounding a black, planetary sphere.

Dean almost didn’t hear the guy speak, he was so enthralled by the tattoo’s artistry. “Help me with what?” the guy asked, his voice surprisingly low and gravelly.

“You like my brother, don’t you?” Dean said, a corner of his lips turning up. “I’ve seen you looking at him. You’re pretty obvious.”

The guy’s cheeks colored slightly. “I’ll stop looking then.”

“But you could have the help of Sam’s brother.” Dean cocked his head to one side, as if challenging the guy to turn down his offer.

“I think I’m okay as is.” The guy pulled on his shirt, covering his tattoos. He stood and slung his backpack over a shoulder. Dean watched him walk away, inwardly shrugging. His loss.

#

Dean lay in the grass of the soccer field with his hands behind his head. Sam was off with Gabe for lunch, which was just fine with Dean. He liked the solitude. The sun shone from between drifting, white puffs, warming Dean despite the remnants of morning frost clinging to the grass. He stared up at the blue sky and drew in a slow breath, tasting the beginnings of autumn’s crispness on the air. The weather might have lulled him into a much needed nap, but a shadow suddenly fell over him, blocking the sun from his eyes. He stared up at the punk guy who had a cigarette between his lips and a guarded look on his face.

“Your help would mean what, exactly?” the guy asked.

Dean jerked his head to a spot of empty grass beside him. The guy sat cross-legged in the indicated spot. He inhaled on his cigarette and blew out the smoke on a sigh. His hand shook slightly as it held the burning stick. “I can get you close to Sam,” Dean said. “If he sees us hanging out enough, he’ll expect me to introduce you. At that point, you can make friends, and I can plant the idea in his head that you two should be more.”

The guy was silent a long moment. Dean stared up at him, struck by how blue his eyes were. “Sounds manipulative,” the guy said and took another drag of his cigarette.

Dean shrugged. “Sammy’s a big boy. He can make his own decisions. I’m just setting things in motion. It didn’t look like you planned to do it by yourself.”

The guy closed his eyes when he exhaled a puff of smoke. “All right. What’s your plan?”

Dean grinned and sat up. “It’s real simple. You hang out with me over the next week. Sam will catch on quick, and then I can introduce you two. He’ll start wanting to get to know you. I’ll be there to help you guys bond or whatever until you got it covered on your own. It should all be downhill from there.”

When the guy opened his eyes, Dean was again struck by just how blue they were. “What’s in it for you?” the guy asked. “Why do you want to help me?”

Dean shrugged. “I think it could be fun.”

“Fun, huh?” The guy inhaled on his cigarette, then exhaled slowly. “I suppose it could be.” He stood. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Wait,” Dean said before the guy could leave. “I didn’t get your name.”

The guy didn’t reply immediately, staring at Dean warily. “It’s Castiel.”

“I’m Dean.”

Castiel turned and started walking. “I know.”

  
  
  
  



	2. Everything's Shiny

English homework was the bane of Dean’s existence. He scored fairly high marks in class, but his dyslexia made it difficult to spend more than a couple minutes at a time reading or writing. Most of the time, he put off his English homework, instead doing math and physics—subjects that he excelled in and enjoyed greatly. There was something satisfying about figuring out a complex math problem or finally understanding the application of a physics formula. He could get that. English was just a necessary evil, as far as he was concerned.

As he carefully typed the last few sentences of his essay on _Great Expectations_ , a knock came at his door. His mother walked in with a plate of salad, a partially burned chicken breast, and utensils. Her golden hair fell loosely around her shoulders. Teal scrubs covered her body—probably because she hadn’t bothered to change after coming home from the hospital. “Everything going okay?” she asked and walked up to Dean’s desk while expertly navigating the bundles of clothes haphazardly tossed about the floor.

Dean glanced up from his computer and nodded to his mother. “Yeah, I just need Sammy to take a look at it now.”

She smiled and placed the plate on Dean’s desk beside his keyboard. “He looks like he could use your help with his math homework actually.”

Dean frowned. “Again? Trig isn’t that hard.”

“We can’t all be mathematically inclined. Everyone has different strengths.” She ran a hand through his hair. “You’ve been awfully quiet today. Did something happen?”

Dean smiled slightly, impressed with his mother’s perceptiveness. “Nah. I’m just tired,” he lied. In truth, he’d been pondering how he could most effectively get Castiel and Sam together. He didn’t know that much about Castiel, but Sam tended to go for people who had a bit of an edge. Castiel was probably just the right amount of edgy and mysterious. His broodiness would go a long way, too.

“Don’t overwork yourself,” Dean’s mother said. “You’re going to need your energy for college next year.”

Dean sighed, thinking about all the applications he had to get in—all the personal essays he had to do. “Yeah.”

She kissed his cheek. “You’ll do just fine.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

She ruffled his hair. “I’ll let you eat. The chicken’s a little burned, but Sam said it’s edible.”

He smiled in amusement. “I can cook, you know. You don’t have to.”

“I can’t depend on you for everything. You just focus on your studies.” She gave him a meaningful look. “And my cooking isn’t that bad...is it?”

Dean sliced off a piece of chicken and ate it. Even if it was slightly burned, it was seasoned perfectly. “I think it’s great.”

She grinned. “Well, there’s more in the oven, if you want it.”

“Thanks.”

She gave a slight nod before leaving, closing the door softly behind her. Dean turned back to his computer and emailed his essay to Sam. Not a minute later, Sam opened a chat box, reading, ‘Looks good. I fixed all your spelling mistakes. By the way, you know that guy you mentioned earlier, the punk one? Gabe told me he’s his younger brother.’

Dean stared at the message a moment. So Gabe, Anna, and Castiel were all going after Sam. Talk about sibling rivalries. Dean replied, ‘Really? Cool. I talked with him today. His name’s Castiel, if you didn’t know.’

‘You friends with him now?’

‘Maybe. He seems like a cool guy.’

‘He seems like he knows how to kill people.’

‘Jo and Anna could probably kill a man with their bare hands too.’

‘Fair enough.’

‘You seem to be hanging out with Gabe a lot. You two official?’

‘No. We’re just friends with benefits.’

Dean was relieved to hear that. It would have messed with his plans to get Castiel with his brother. ‘So you don’t think you want anything romantic with him?’

‘Not right now.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because flufflybunnypants hasn’t updated her Viking J2 fic yet.’

‘Ah, shit. She needs to do that.’

‘I know.’

Dean nibbled on his chicken thoughtfully. Castiel still had a shot. He just needed to up his game—maybe glower a little less and smile a little more. ‘Well, thanks for looking at my essay. We probably should have had this conversation in person. I mean, you’re literally in the next room over.’

‘Nah. Technology exists, so I don’t have to see your face, jerk.’

‘Bitch.’

‘Night.’

‘Night.’ Dean closed the chat and picked at his salad. He had his work cut out for him.

#

“Clowns, huh?” Castiel said, amusement in his voice but not on his face. “Who would have thought the skyscraper was afraid of clowns?”

Dean chuckled. “‘The skyscraper.’ That’s a new one.”

“I couldn’t think of anything else as tall as Sam.” Castiel took a drag from his cigarette and blew out a smoke ring. They were sitting out in the field again since the nice weather was holding up. Dean suspected that mid-October wouldn’t be this nice, but for now, he enjoyed the mild weather. Castiel had even taken off his leather jacket, revealing a gray thermal with the sleeves rolled up to show the bottom half of his tattoos.

“What do you smoke?” Dean asked.

Castiel pulled out a pack from his jacket pocket and handed it to Dean. “Lucky Strike” shone in the red center of a logo resembling a target. “Luckies, huh?”

“Want one?”

Dean shook his head. “My mom nearly killed me the last time I smoked. She’s got a nose like a bloodhound. I got lectured for an hour on lung diseases. Guess that’s what happens when your mom’s a doctor, though.”

Castiel took his pack of cigarettes back and folded his arms over his knees. A soft breeze blew his hair back from his face and into further disarray. “What kind of doctor?”

Dean lay back into the grass, using Castiel’s body to block the sun from his eyes. “Oncologist.”

Castiel chuckled. It was brief and quiet, but Dean heard it and looked up in time to see Castiel smile. He looked good when he smiled. “I imagine she told you all about lung cancer, then.”

Dean nodded. “Like you wouldn’t believe. After the first ten minutes, I felt like I had to take notes for a test.”

Castiel chuckled again. Dean found himself smiling. Initially, he’d only invited Castiel to spend their lunch break together to get Sam to notice, but as it turned out, the guy was pretty interesting. Without realizing it, Dean had chatted with him simply because he wanted to know more about him.

“What about your family?” Dean prompted.

Castiel regarded Dean carefully. “What about them?”

Dean shrugged. “Can’t imagine what it’s like to have to live with Gabe and Anna. I don’t think they get along either.”

“They’re like oil and water,” Castiel affirmed. “I don’t know. Gabe’s always liked playing pranks on people, and Anna just does what she wants—screw the consequences. It’s a lot like living with two hurricanes swirling in opposite directions.”

“Jeez. How do your parents deal with it?”

Castiel didn’t reply immediately. He inhaled on his cigarette and exhaled slowly. “They don’t. Mom’s dead. Dad left years ago. Our older brothers, Michael and Lucifer, take care of us now.” He snuffed his cigarette on the heel of his boot and stored the butt in a small, metal box he pulled from his jacket pocket.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

Castiel waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. Never really knew either of my parents. As far as I’m concerned, my brothers are my parents.”

Dean frowned. “What do they do to support all of you?”

“Mike is a chef at a fine dining restaurant. Luc is a lawyer at a firm that primarily deals with insurance companies.” Castiel looked down at Dean. “What about your dad? What does he do?”

“He’s a mechanic.”

Castiel cocked his pierced brow. “An oncologist and a mechanic? However did your parents manage that?”

Dean shrugged. “Well, they met in high school. At that time, Mom didn’t know what she wanted to do, and my dad didn’t really either. Dad couldn’t afford college, so he took over the family business as a mechanic. Mom went off to med-school a little after Sammy was born. My parents just stayed together through it all, I guess.”

“How romantic.” Castiel lay back in the grass beside Dean. A comfortable silence fell between them as they stared up at the clear sky. Dean closed his eyes, pleasantly surprised with how at ease he felt. The sunlight warmed him, and he could hear Castiel’s even breaths next to him.

He wasn’t sure when he nodded off, but when he woke, it was to Castiel’s low, gravelly voice in his ear. “Wake up, Dean.”

Dean cracked his eyelids open. A pair of sky blue discs hovered over him. Castiel’s hair hung messily around his face. He was leaning over Dean with his hands planted on the ground to support his upper body. The smallest of smiles played at his lips in amusement. Without thinking, Dean lifted a hand and touched the single silver hoop in Castiel’s lower lip. Castiel stiffened but didn’t pull away. Dean dropped his hand. “Sorry,” he mumbled sleepily. “I got distracted ‘cause it’s shiny.”

Castiel stood and offered his hand. When Dean took it, Castiel pulled him up with surprising strength. “You’re going to be late for class,” he muttered.

Dean yawned. “I’m always late for class.”

Castiel reached up and plucked something from Dean’s hair. It was a blade of grass. He released it into the wind. “I’ll see you later.”

“See you.”

They walked away in different directions.


	3. Pressure Changes

For what seemed the thousandth time today, Dean checked his phone for text messages. There were none. With a sigh, he slung his bag over his shoulder and closed his locker. “Something wrong?” Castiel asked beside him. He was leaning up against Sam’s locker, arms folded across his chest. His black messenger bag hung against his right hip which was adorned with thin chains connected to the front of back loops of his jeans.

“No, it’s nothing,” Dean muttered just as Sam came up to him. He glanced at Castiel who took two steps toward Dean to allow Sam access to his own locker.

A corner of Dean’s lips turned up. “Hey, Sammy. You ready to head out soon.”

“Yeah, I just need to get my trig textbook,” Sam mumbled, looking Castiel over. “You must be Castiel.”

Castiel surprised Dean when he offered Sam a smile and a hand. “And you must be Sam.”

Sam shook Castiel’s hand with a smile of his own. “Dean’s talked about you a bit.”

“Only good things, I hope.”

“I never hear anything else.” Sam opened his locker and pulled out his trigonometry textbook. A grimace was planted on his face while he put the book in his bag. Castiel absently fiddled with his lip ring, running his tongue over it in habitual motions. He looked unaffected by Sam’s presence, which wasn’t going to help him win over Sam.

“Cas likes _The Tempest_ ,” Dean said offhandedly.

Castiel arched a pierced brow. “So it’s ‘Cas’ now?” He sounded amused—though his face didn’t show it.

“Is that okay?” Dean asked, but he had no intention to stop using the nickname, no matter what Castiel thought of it.

“Why not?” Castiel shrugged noncommittally.

Sam closed his locker and slung his bag on his back. “What did you like about _The Tempest_?” he asked Castiel.

In an instant, Castiel’s manner shifted. He talked seriously about the dynamics between Prospero and Caliban. Sam joined in animatedly. Dean smiled to himself as the three of them started down the hall. He had no idea what they were talking about, but they seemed into the conversation. He’d talked with Castiel enough to know he and Sam shared several interests—Shakespeare being just one of many.

The vibration of Dean’s cell phone grabbed his attention. He pulled it out and checked the screen. ‘Coming back tomorrow,’ the message read. ‘Miss you.’

He grinned. ‘Miss you too. See you at lunch?’

‘Absolutely.’

“What’s got you all smiley?” Sam asked and looked over Dean’s shoulder, using his superior height to peer down at the phone screen. “Oh, I see.” His tone was as knowing as his expression.

Dean elbowed his brother in the ribs. “Shut up.”

Sam laughed. Castiel looked confused. Dean just shook his head and pocketed his phone. But a smile remained firmly plastered to his face.

#

Sam was laughing next to Castiel while Dean contented himself with lying in the grass of the field. It was cloudier today than it had been the past few days, but the wind still lacked the bite of autumn and the sun remained a warming presence in the sky.

“You’re kidding, right?” Sam said to Castiel. “There’s no way Gabe actually did that.”

Castiel took his cigarette from his lips and exhaled a puff of smoke. “Well, Mike and Luc were definitely not happy about it. They had to drive him the hospital, and he would not shut up about how much his face hurt. Of course, everything he said was garbled because his head had swelled up to three times its normal size. I thought it was fitting.”

Sam grinned in amusement. “What—his ego manifested as a horrendous allergic reaction to peanuts?”

“He did eat the peanut butter just to try to prove to us that he was better than his allergies. That should tell you enough.”

Sam laughed, and Castiel smiled widely. Dean couldn’t help smiling with them. It had been almost too easy to get them talking. Already, he could see Sam showing interest in Castiel that went beyond just friendly looks. The broody punk, as it turned out, could be charming when he wanted.

“I always miss the jokes,” said a light, teasing voice.

Immediately, Dean sat up straight. A girl walked toward him, dark hair shifting softly around her waist with her movements. Her jeans fit snugly to her toned legs, and a black hoodie hung off her shoulders. She walked with the graceful gait of an athlete.

Dean stood and walked up to her. She chuckled when he pulled her into his arms, hugging him back. They remained in each other’s arms a heartbeat too long for a friendly gesture before pulling away. “I missed you,” Dean said.

“Of course you did.” She stood on her toes and kissed him lightly. “I guess I missed you, too.”

A devious grin spread his lips before he bent and brought their lips together again. Her arms wrapped around his neck, deepening the kiss. When they pulled apart, Dean was beaming.

“Get a room, you two!” Sam called out.

Dean flipped his brother off, earning a laugh. He kept his hand around the girl’s waist as they walked to where Sam and Castiel still sat. “Cas, this is Lisa, my girlfriend,” Dean said.

The girl offered her hand to Castiel. He smiled politely and shook her offer. “I’m Castiel,” he said, then added, “Gabe and Anna’s brother.”

Her brown eyes lit with recognition. “Oh! You did that painting.”

Dean had a curious look. “What painting?”

Lisa gave him an unimpressed look. “The one you admired for weeks on end. Remember? Last year, Anna brought in this gorgeous painting to yearbook and said her little brother had made it. Everyone loved it so much it got its own page in the yearbook’s sports section.”

“The one of the soccer team playing at the championship?” Dean looked at Castiel who had a slight blush in his cheeks as he averted his gaze.

“Holy hell,” said Sam. “That was you, Cas? That painting was amazing.”

“Thanks,” Castiel mumbled, looking uncomfortable from receiving so much positive attention.

Dean tried and failed to hide his smile of amusement at seeing Castiel caught off guard. He was always so stoic, but Dean was starting to see beyond that composed exterior. He wanted to see more. “I think I stared at that painting for hours,” he admitted. “I just couldn’t believe that it was a painting, and not a photo. It really was incredible, Cas.”

Castiel’s cheeks burned bright red, just as Dean had intended. “I don’t think it was that good.”

Sam clasped Castiel’s shoulder. “What are you talking about? It was awesome.”

Castiel’s ears were red. “Thanks.”

Lisa smiled and took pity on the guy. “Well, it’s nice to finally meet you.” She sat down in the grass, and Dean took place beside her. With a natural ease, their hands came together, fingers intertwined. She rested her head on his shoulder, and he kissed the top of her head.

“When’s your next match?” Dean asked.

Lisa sighed. “Friday.”

He frowned. “So I have to wait another week?”

“I have to focus.” Her lips quirked into a semi-smile. “But maybe we can have dinner tomorrow night.”

Sam leaned toward Castiel. “Lisa’s on the soccer team,” he explained in a whisper. “She doesn’t like having distractions, so Dean has blue balls for a month while she’s competing.”

Castiel nodded and glanced at the couple. Dean caught his eye and smiled. Castiel returned the smile, but then his face was back to being perfectly composed. He turned to Sam, and they continued their conversation about Gabe’s many “incidents.” Dean tuned them out, at ease with Lisa leaning against him. He listened to her breathe and felt the warmth of her body next to him. She ran her thumb over the back of his hand absently.

“I missed this,” she admitted. “You’re warm.”

He rested his head on hers. “So I’m just a heater to you?”

“Amongst other things.”

“Other things?”

“Shh. Heater’s don’t talk.”

He chuckled and didn’t say anything more.


	4. The Eye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to start giving the chapters names. No particular reason...maybe.

Sam didn’t know how it happened, but he found himself on a double date. He and Castiel sat across from Dean and Lisa. They were in a local Mediterranean restaurant, eating kabobs and falafels. Castiel had gone through the trouble of putting his hair into some kind of order. It wasn’t neat, exactly, but less messy. Sam found it oddly endearing. Castiel had the driest sense of humor he’d ever encountered and a reserved nature that was entirely opposite his older brother, Gabe. But Sam found his gaze drifting toward Castiel more and more.

While nibbling on his falafel, Sam eyes kept wandering to his left. Castiel had taken his jacket off, leaving him in a loose, navy blue tanktop that hung off his muscled shoulders. His tattoos were visible, save for the head of the dove on his shoulder. Dark gray cargo pants covered his legs and the tops of his studded, black boots. Some of the hoops in his ear had been exchanged for blue studs.

“How was the wedding?” Sam asked Lisa, needing to distract himself from the contours of muscle beneath Castiel’s shirt.

She shrugged. “My aunt got way too drunk, threw up on the maid of honor, and then passed out on her wife.”

“That sounds like her,” Dean muttered. “Was your sister happy at least?”

Lisa smiled, affection obvious in the expression. “Yeah, she’s never been happier. She and her new husband are honeymooning in Peru as we speak.” She sighed. “Of course, I have a ton of work to catch up on now. I mean, who has a wedding on a Monday in the middle of October?”

Castiel turned one of the hoops in his ear between his fingers. “I can give you my notes for APUSH and AP Chem. You have Harvelle and Singer, right?”

She gave him a curious look. “Yeah. How’d you know that?”

“Anna says you’re the reason she’s passing AP Chem, and Gabe claims that he cheats off your APUSH quizzes.”

“Really?” She had a devious glint in her eye. “Would you mind telling your brother that we failed that last quiz?”

Castiel smiled slightly. “Sure.”

She regarded him warmly. “I can copy your notes if you need them.”

He shook his head. “I took both classes last year. You can have all my notes if you like.”

“Yeah, thanks. That helps a lot.”

“Sure thing.”

Sam had a curious look. “I thought you were a junior. You’ve taken both classes already?”

Castiel gave him an unimpressed look. “I’m a senior. Gabe started school late and was held back in fifth grade, which is why he’s a junior.”

“But...Anna’s older than you, and she’s a senior.”

Castiel was suddenly sheepish. “I may have skipped a grade.”

“You must be really smart,” Lisa said.

He shrugged, but looked flattered. “Not really.”

Sam nudged Castiel playfully and tried not to think about the firmness of the guy’s bicep against his elbow. “Don’t be so modest.”

Castiel only offered a nod in response. He picked at his chicken kabob, cutting the meat into neat pieces with a precise movements. Everything he did seemed to have a deliberate carefulness to it, as if anything less than perfection was simply not an option to him.

“What colleges did you apply to, Cas?” Lisa asked.

He paused from his intense dissection of a mushroom to look up at her. “Mostly west coast ones. I want to go out of state.”

Dean smiled. “Sammy wants to go to Stanford. Maybe you guys will end up together.” He gave his brother a meaningful look, and Sam returned it with a flat expression.

“I’d like to go to California,” Sam said, “but Oregon and Washington have pretty good schools, too.”

Castiel continued slicing his mushroom. “UC Berkeley is my top choice.”

Lisa suddenly poked Dean in the shoulder. “So is his!” she said.

“What do you want to major in?” Castiel asked Dean, looking genuinely interested.

Dean shrugged. “Engineering. What about you?”

“Biochemistry.”

Sam and Lisa exchanged a glance. “We’re surrounded by smart people,” she muttered. “They’re too good for us.”

Dean wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer. “You’re too good for all of us.”

She kissed his jaw. “And don’t you forget it.”

Sam glanced sidelong at Castiel who’d returned to cutting his food into perfectly portioned pieces. Casual relationships were fun, but they lacked personal intimacy. Sam was starting to tire of them. He wanted something more, something special.

“What are you doing Friday afternoon?” he asked Castiel while Dean and Lisa were distracted with each other.

Castiel looked up from his plate, setting his impossibly blue eyes on Sam. “Nothing, but I work in the evening.”

“You want to see Lisa’s game with me? It shouldn’t go past six.”

A corner of Castiel’s lips turned up. “I’d like that.”

“It’s a date.” Sam paused, cheeks reddening. “Well, I mean...not a date...unless...you know…” He trailed off and held his head in a hand.

“I’d like that, too,” Castiel said, amusement clear in his voice. When Sam looked at him, a full smile spread Castiel’s lips. A wave of relief and embarrassment swept through Sam simultaneously. Castiel was so collected, and here he was stammering like an idiot.

When he faced forward again, he thought he caught Dean giving Castiel a thumbs-up over the tabletop. But it was probably just his imagination.

#

The crowd in the bleachers was suitably wrapped up in jackets for the October afternoon, which was rapidly turning into evening. It was barely four, but the sun was low in the sky and the wind had a bite to it. Sam sat next to Castiel in the front row seats Lisa had reserved for them. Dean had been mindful enough to sit a ways down the bench; Sam had assumed it was to give him privacy with Castiel—as private as they could have been at a soccer game.

Sam breathed into his hands. He wasn’t one to get cold easily, but he’d forgotten his gloves. “Here,” Castiel said, speaking loud enough to be heard over the calls of the crowd. He held a pair of black mittens up.

“Thanks,” Sam said and took them. They were a little too small for his large hands, but they were warm. “Do you always carry mittens around?”

Castiel turned his attention to the game, straightening his own leather gloves on his hands. “Gabe always forgot his own gloves at home, and then he’d whine to me until I gave him mine. I just carry extra mittens around for him now.”

Sam smiled. “Now I’m wondering who the older brother really is.”

Castiel’s expression was grave. “I know I complain about Gabe often, but he’s given up a lot for our family, especially after Dad left. Carrying around an extra pair of mittens is the least I could do.”

Sam didn’t know how to reply, but the crowd’s eruption into cheers saved him from having to. Dean stood and cheered loudly. Castiel smiled, his eyes following Lisa as she high-fived her teammates near the goal she’d just made. “She’s really good,” he said. “She deserves that scholarship.”

Sam’s brows furrowed. “What scholarship?”

Castiel looked up at Sam in surprise. “You didn’t know? She was offered a soccer scholarship to Indiana University.”

“She never said anything. Dean hasn’t either. How’d you find out?”

“Anna told me. She said Lisa could hardly talk about anything else in chem.” He had a troubled look. “I wonder why she hasn’t mentioned it.”

Sam glanced at Dean, who grinned widely, pride and affection plain on his face as he stared at Lisa. Indiana was far away—relationship-ending far.

A cold breeze swept through the stands. Castiel shivered, and Sam scooted closer until they were pressed together. Castiel rested his head on Sam’s shoulder, face revealing nothing, but Sam had learned that Castiel’s face rarely revealed anything he was feeling.

While he still had the courage, Sam rested his hand over Castiel’s on the bench. Nothing happened for a moment, then Castiel hesitantly turned his hand over to take Sam’s. It was such a small gesture, but Sam felt a sense of comfort and delight all the same. He let out a contented sigh and rested his head atop Castiel’s, the cold forgotten.


	5. A Wall of Wind

“We’re not anything right now,” Sam repeated. “I still don’t know what I want to do.”

Dean gave his brother a knowing look while they walked toward the men’s locker room. “Admit it. You like Cas.”

“And? I like Gabe and Anna and Jo, too.”

“You can’t date all of them. You’re going to have to pick at some point.”

Sam frowned. He had been thinking a lot about Castiel lately. They’d been texting all weekend, and the more they talked, the more Sam warmed to the idea of being in a romantic relationship with him. But then Gabe would pull Sam away for lunch and make him laugh until his sides hurt. Truth be told, Anna and Jo had given up on trying to win Sam’s affections, and Sam had let his relationships with them return to friendship. But not with Gabe, and now Castiel was in the picture.

Sam and Dean turned into the men’s locker room. Sam didn’t have P.E. this period, but he needed to use the restroom before his next class just across the hall. Almost imperceptible drops of red spotted the blue laminate flooring. Sam squinted down at it, trying to determine if it was blood or something else. Dean followed his brother’s gaze and frowned. The drops formed a trail to the third row of lockers. They followed it curiously.

Castiel sat on the bench between the lockers. His upper body was spotted with the red and blue beginnings of bruises. He pressed what looked to be his bundled, gray shirt against his shoulder. A trail of dried blood led down his forearm and down the back of his middle finger. Sam’s stomach twisted in horror. 

“Holy shit,” Dean breathed and hurried to Castiel’s side. “What the hell happened to you?”

Castiel shook his head. “I can’t tell you.”

Sam pulled of his sweatshirt and held it out. “Take it. You shouldn’t be half-naked on the way to the nurse’s.”

Castiel stared at the sweatshirt a moment. “I’ll get blood on it.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Hesitantly, Castiel removed his shirt from his arm, revealing a jagged gash across his bicep. Sam flinched at the sight of it. “Who the hell did this to you?” Dean demanded, anger hardening his voice.

“Don’t worry about it,” Castiel muttered and struggled to pull the sweatshirt on, wincing every time he moved his wounded arm. Sam helped him pull it on, but in the end, Castiel only pulled his good arm through a sleeve and left the other hanging. 

Dean scowled. “How can I not worry about it? You left a trail of blood on the floor.”

Castiel looked down at the floor and cursed. Sam offered a sympathetic look and said, “I’ll tell Smith we’re taking him to the nurse’s office.”

Dean nodded his acknowledgement before asking Castiel more questions. Sam found the P.E. teacher in his office, briefly explained that Castiel was injured, and offered to take him to the nurse’s with his brother. Smith gave his consent without question. When Sam returned to the third row of lockers, Dean looked ready to kill, and Castiel wouldn’t meet his eyes. Sam played peacekeeper and ushered them out of the locker room. Third period bell rang halfway to the nurse’s office.

“It’s not nothing!” Dean hissed as they rounded the main office. “Why can’t you just say what happened?”

“Because I can’t,” Castiel said calmly—though he kept his eyes on the floor.

“Dean, lay off,” said Sam. The last thing Castiel needed was an interrogation.

Dean didn’t say anything more, but Sam could see him seething in his silence. They walked into the nurse’s office. White, sterile walls and the smell of antiseptic met them. The nurse, Ms. Mills, knelt beside one of the two beds in her office, wrapping a student’s wrist in white bandages. It took all of two seconds for Dean’s anger to boil over when he saw the student was Lisa. “Someone want to tell me what the fuck happened?” he growled.

Lisa shot Castiel a betrayed look. “I told you not to say anything.”

Castiel started to shrug, but stopped and winced. “I didn’t say anything. They stormed over here and dragged me along.”

She looked at Dean with uncertainty. Ms. Mills finished wrapping Lisa’s wrist, then shot Dean a pointed look and said, “No swearing in my office, Dean.” She washed her hands at a sink off to the side. “Which one of you is injured? Or did you just come here to yell at your girlfriend for tripping?”

“Cas is injured,” Sam said. “It’s his arm.”

Lisa looked guiltily at Castiel who then offered her a reassuring smile. Ms. Mills took paper towels from the dispenser on the wall and dried her hands before telling Castiel to sit on the only available bed of the two in the office. He gingerly pulled one side of the sweatshirt up, revealing his arm. Ms. Mills stared at the wound a moment, then the bruises forming over Castiel’s body. “What happened?” she asked, pulling out various medical supplies from a cabinet by the sink. 

“I fell down the theatre stairs,” he mumbled. “Cut my arm on a corner of the steps.”

Ms. Mills glanced down at his bruised knuckles, but didn’t question further. Instead, she cleaned and dressed his cut carefully. After, she wrote him a note to excuse him from P.E. 

“I have your jacket,” Lisa said to Castiel. “Jo found it. It’s in my locker.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled as he struggled to pull his injured arm through the sleeve of Sam’s sweatshirt. Thankfully, the clothing was big on him, giving him decent space to maneuver in. 

“You’re good to go back to class,” Ms. Mills said. “Now, stay out of trouble.”

Castiel and Lisa nodded obediently and stood. They followed Sam and Dean out of the office. “You mind telling me what happened now?” Dean said, voice even but edged with contained anger.

Lisa glanced sidelong at Castiel who only shrugged with his good shoulder in return. “Dick cornered me in Theatre today,” she admitted. “Castiel happened to be walking by and defended me. Dick took it as a challenge, and...I don’t know. Things got out of hand really fast.”

Dean paled. “Did you report it? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“A fight could get her suspended, Dean,” Castiel said calmly, “which would mean she’d be off the team.”

Dean scowled. “That still doesn’t explain why you both kept this from me.”

“Because you would have wanted to report it,” Lisa said. “Dick didn’t leave unscathed, you know. Castiel could get suspended, too, if word got around that he’d been in a fight.”

Dean looked conflicted, expression caught between a grimace and a scowl. “I won’t report it,” he said slowly, as if choosing his words carefully, “but I want to know everything that happened, and I want to know if it happens again.”

Lisa and Castiel stared at each other a moment, then he said, “I’m helping paint the set for the play. I left some of my brushes backstage yesterday, so my teacher let me get them during Art. I saw Dick and Lisa in the green room. He was saying...inappropriate...things, and she looked mad. So I intervened.”

“Dick looked like he wanted a fight,” Lisa said, “but I didn’t think he would actually attack Cas.”

“Lisa hurt her wrist trying to break up the fight,” Castiel continued. “I cut my arm on the corner of a table when Dick pushed me down. It’s bruised worse than it’s cut. I didn’t think it’d bleed this much, though..”

Lisa gave Castiel an apologetic look and squeezed his good shoulder. “Thanks again for helping me. I’m sorry you got hurt.”

He shook his head. “It’s nothing. I’ve taken worse.”

“Until today, I wouldn’t have believed that.”

Dean’s jaw clenched. Sam could see the signs of his brother on the verge of exploding and shook his head. “Dean, going after Dick right now won’t solve anything,” he said firmly. “I’m mad, too, but all you’re going to do is get yourself suspended...or expelled.”

Dean didn’t relax, but offered a nod as reassurance that he wasn’t about to bolt off to pound Dick’s head into the pavement.

“Dick’s not going to bother us for a while, I don’t think,” Lisa said with a smile. “You should have seen what Cas did to him.”

Sam and Dean turned their eyes on Castiel simultaneously. “He’ll live” was all Castiel said, as if that were ever in question. Maybe it had been.

“Thank you, Cas,” Dean said in earnest.

Castiel smiled one of his rare, full smiles. “You’re welcome.”

#

As it turned out, Dick had one hell of a black eye, a wonky shoulder, and something wrong with his leg. Sam didn’t know just what kind of injuries the guy had sustained, but as Dick hobbled through the halls, Sam made a mental note to ask Castiel if he’d had martial arts training. 

“Damn,” Dean mumbled, watching Dick shuffle by. “Lisa wasn’t kidding. I mean, she told me Dick looked bad yesterday, but I didn’t think he’d look like he’d been hit by a train. I almost feel sorry for the guy.”

Sam closed his locker and heaved his textbook-heavy bag onto his shoulder. “Apparently, his story is that part of the set fell on him. Cas got dragged into helping us reinforce all of the supports yesterday.”

Dean shut his locker and slung his bag over his shoulder. “Why are you in tech again?”

“Because I enjoy it.”

“Nerd.”

“Says the guy taking three APs.”

Dean had a wry smile. “Whatever. I’m going to Lisa’s, so you’re walking home alone.”

Sam shook his head. “I’m going over to Gabe’s.”

Dean frowned. “I don’t think you should play with Cas like this.”

“Play with him? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean he’s not like Gabe or Anna or Jo. He wants something more than friends with benefits, or whatever you want to call it.”

Sam grimaced. “I do, too.”

“You’re sure not acting like it,” Dean grumbled. 

Sam crossed his arms over his chest. “Since when do you give a damn about what I do with Cas?”

Dean stared at his brother a moment, then mumbled, “Forget it.” He walked away. Sam wanted to ask more. His brother was usually only encouraging. But then again, Dean had a point. Castiel probably didn’t want anything other than an exclusive relationship. Sam was starting to want the same thing, but he was still so conflicted. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to see Gabe today.

He started in the opposite direction of home.


	6. The Outflow

The Shurley home was a blue, folk Victorian style house. A swing hung off to one side of the patio. White, jigsaw trim adorned the eaves, contrasting with the black roof. Glancing at the stout, square windows, none of the lights appeared to be on, but Sam could hear a rhythmic chopping sound and assumed Anna was making dinner. He walked up to the heavy, white door and knocked. Second later, Anna opened the door, a chef’s knife in one hand. Her red hair was tied tightly into a bun, and dark circles rimmed her green eyes. The black shirt and sweats she wore were spotted with paint.

“Hey, Sam,” she greeted tersely and walked back into the house, leaving the door open. Sam stepped inside, closed the door, and left his shoes with a row of others by the door. The hardwood flooring looked like it’d been cleaned recently. Sunlight from the windows set the cream-colored walls aglow, illuminating the house sufficiently in the afternoon light. Down the hall leading out from the front door was a main room with a TV and a chocolate leather, L-shaped couch. 

The first door to the right, just before the main room, led to the kitchen. Old, white linoleum covered the floors. Light, wood cabinets, scuffed with years of use, lined the base of both walls and sat embedded high in the walls near the stove and on either side of the window overlooking the front lawn. Anna stood in front of the window, washing her hands in the porcelain sink just beneath it. Freshly cut red and green peppers sat on a cutting board by the sink.

Sam walked into the kitchen after leaving his bag in the main room. “Cas is at work,” Anna said as she dried her hand on a towel hanging from the handle of the oven. “Gabe got detention, so he won’t be back for another thirty minutes at least. I assume you’re staying for dinner.”

Sam glanced at the stove where a rice cooker and wok sat. Onions, garlic, and pieces of chicken sizzled in the wok. The smell made Sam’s stomach rumble, and Anna laughed. “I’ll take that as a yes,” she said and used her knife to push the peppers off the cutting board and into the wok. “I have to leave in an hour for work, so you and Gabe will have the house to yourself until Luc comes home at eight.” She gave him a knowing look. “Don’t make a mess.”

Sam’s face heated. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

“Yes, well, Gabe has a tendency to make plans up as he goes.” She stirred the peppers in the wok and added various spices from the cabinet above the stove. “You won’t have to worry about Cas walking in on you guys, though. He won’t be home until ten, at the earliest.”

Sam frowned. “What does he do?”

She gave him an odd look. “He hasn’t told you?”

“He’s sorta vague about his personal life. He’ll talk about you guys, but that’s about it.”

“Yeah, he’s a pretty private person. Well, if you want to know, he’s a waiter. Mike wanted him to work at his restaurant, but Cas doesn’t really have the appearance of a fine dining waiter, even without his piercings and ink. He’s just got one of those faces, you know? Or maybe it’s just his attitude.”

Sam nodded. Anna took a pack of broccoli and mushrooms from the fridge and threw them in a big bowl. She rinsed them thoroughly before throwing them in the wok, along with a liberal serving of some kind of brown sauce in a bottle she pulled from the pantry. “Oyster sauce,” she said, noticing Sam’s curious gaze. “I’m making an Asian stir-fry.”

“What kind of Asian?”

“The whitewashed kind.” She stirred the contents of the wok while adding more spices. The front door opened. Anna scowled when Gabe walked into the kitchen. "Smells good," he said with a lopsided grin, light brown hair falling carelessly to one side of his face.

"I thought you had detention," Anna said in a hard tone. "What are you doing home?"

"Let me out early for good behavior." He looked at Sam, eyes the color of sunlight through a shot of whiskey. "Of course, I'm here to practice my bad behavior." He winked, earning a full blush from Sam.

Anna rolled her eyes. "Just don't make a mess."

"And people think I have a dirty mind." Gabe hooked his fingers in Sam's belt loops, pulling the significantly taller and more muscular man to him. "I suppose they're not entirely wrong."

Sam contained the nervousness he always felt around Gabe and played along. "I would hope not." He used his superior height to loom over Gabe. "I'm getting tired of being the only imaginative one."

As Sam had expected, Gabe took his words as a challenge. "Imagination, huh?" He looked Sam over deliberately. "I'm sure I can come up with something for us to do...or do us."

Anna slapped her wooden spoon against the wok loudly. "Food will be done in five minutes. I, however, am more than finished." She walked out of the kitchen.

"She's not bitter, is she?" Sam asked in concern.

"Anna? Nah." Gabe shook his head. "She didn't have that bad a crush on you. Actually, I think she was more into Dean, but he's happily whipped. She's probably stressing about money again."

"You guys are having money troubles?"

Gabe offered a wry smile. "Don't you worry. We're doing fine. She just thinks too much." He looked in the wok. "But she's a damn good cook."

They waited the five minutes Anna had allotted the food before serving themselves and sitting on the couch in the main room. By then, Anna was changed into her black suit-like uniform for work at her brother's restaurant. "Don't make a mess!" she called out before leaving.

Sam was done eating long before Gabe and spent the next ten minutes washing his dish and the dishes left in the sink. "That's my job," Gabe said, coming up behind Sam.

"Where's your bowl?" Sam asked, scrubbing oatmeal out of a mug.

Gabe slid his arms around Sam's waist. "Don't worry about it." He kissed the back of Sam's neck.

"I'm trying to clean, Gabe."

"And you're doing an excellent job." Gabe bit lightly on the side of Sam's neck.

Sam almost dropped the cup in his hands. With a sigh, he set it down and turned the faucet off. Gabe stepped back slightly when Sam turned around. "You are impossible," Sam muttered.

"Impossibly irresistible." Gabe slid his hands up Sam's chest. "It's traditional to have dessert after dinner."

Sam let Gabe pull him down by the collar of his shirt until their lips came together.

Surprisingly, Gabe was slow and gentle. He usually was aggressive or, at the very least, the instigator. Sam didn't know where his sudden gentleness had come from, but he couldn't complain. Gabe ran his tongue deliberately between Sam's lips, earning a soft gasp. Sam slid a hand in Gabe's hair.

A series of soft knocks on the front door sounded. Gabe groaned in frustration before pulling away. As Gabe walked out of the kitchen, grumbling the entire way, Sam took the opportunity to return to the main room to get Gabe's bowl.

"This had better not be—" Gabe stopped abruptly when he opened the door. Sam looked through the open door. The man standing outside looked to be middle-aged. His brown, curly hair was streaked with gray. The light blue of his eyes contrasted with the dark circles under them. He fidgeted uncomfortably on the patio.

Gabe stepped back from the man. "Dad?"

#

Dean stood out in the field with Lisa. A frigid wind swept between them. The sun was beginning to set, sending colors of pink and gold streaking across the clouds. Lisa’s hair blew around her face. She swept it back behind her ear. “I thought it would be dishonest to keep this from you until the end of the school year,” she said softly, voice seeming to fly away with the wind. “I’m going to take the scholarship, and I don’t want a long distance relationship. But I also don’t want you to follow me.”

Dean swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. “So you’re breaking up with me?”

“Not if you don’t want to.” She looked down at the grass. “I’d like to stay with you as long as possible, but that’s up to you now. Do you want to continue, even knowing that it’ll end once we graduate?”

Dean wanted to say yes. It was on the tip of his tongue, but part of him knew that continuing a futile relationship would just make it harder when they had to part. He’d always thought that if they didn’t go to the same college that they could do long-distance. But the future he’d hoped for was rapidly crumbling. It was like sand slipping through his fingers. “I...need to think about this more,” he said after a moment’s hesitation.

Lisa nodded wordlessly. Dean turned and started for home. His thoughts spun around through in his head, each one tinged with dread and sadness. He’d known that it was unlikely he and Lisa would be together forever, but facing the reality of it was hard to swallow. Still, it was better to enjoy the time they had left than to end it now. 

Wasn’t it?

Dean crossed his front lawn, resigned to spend the next couple hours alone in his house while his parents were at work and Sam was at Gabe’s. He hadn’t expected to see Castiel sitting on his porch, head in one hand, cigarette in the other. “Cas?”

Castiel lifted his head. He looked on the verge of tears. His blue eyes held such despondency that Dean forgot his own problems. “Hey, Dean,” Castiel mumbled, his voice rough.

“Are you okay?” Dean asked, getting out his house keys from his pocket. “What are you doing here?”

Castiel snuffed his cigarette in the metal box he kept in his jacket. “I can’t go home.”

Dean unlocked his front door, glancing concernedly at Castiel all the while. “You want to come in then?”

Castiel nodded and stood. Dean waited until they were both inside to close the door. The foyer was a small expanse of hardwood floors and vanilla walls. A wide mirror hung on the far wall above a thin table piled with mail and various keys. The wide archway in the left corner led to the living room. A doorway to the right opened to the front room, and the one on the left led to an office. Stairs in the right corner led to the bedrooms.

“I thought you had work right after school,” Dean said after locking the front door.

“My boss sent me home after I almost dropped a stack of plates,” Castiel said absently, looking around the foyer. “My arm can’t hold much weight. It needs to heal a bit more.”

“And you can’t go home because…?”

Castiel’s eyes lowered to the floor, and he didn’t say anything. Dean pointed to a the large archway. “The kitchen’s through there, just past the living room,” he said. “Let me put my stuff away, and then I’ll make us some coffee, okay?”

Castiel offered a slight nod and shuffled into the kitchen. Dean walked up the stairs and turned left at the top. His room was just as he’d left it—messy and covered in Metallica, Pink Floyd, and ACDC posters. He threw his bag onto his bed and hurried back downstairs.

Castiel sat at the dining table in a small area, which was between the main part of the kitchen and the living room. He stared down at his hands resting on the tabletop, his brown hair hiding part of his face from Dean’s view. His jacket hung off the back of his chair, leaving him in a black shirt that had decorative cuts up the sleeves, showing off sections of the tattoos on his right arm. 

Dean walked over the sandy tile of his kitchen and took two mugs from a cabinet by the sink. The coffee maker had a fresh pot ready since the Winchesters were a family of coffee addicts, especially their mother who drank coffee like she breathed air—an effect of having long, odd hours during her residency.

“Do you take cream and sugar?” Dean asked.

“Just black, thanks,” Castiel mumbled.

Dean rounded the countertops and placed a mug of coffee in front of Castiel before sitting across from him. “You ready to talk?”

Castiel sighed heavily and held his mug between his hands, staring into the dark liquid. He didn’t say anything.

Dean sipped his coffee. “My parents won’t mind if you stay here, and I’m sure Sam would be thrilled to share a room with you. But I’d like to know why you can’t go home.”

Castiel’s eyes remained on his coffee. “After my boss gave me the night off,” he said, voice barely above a whisper, “I got a call from Gabe.”

“What’d he say?”

Castiel lifted his coffee to his lips. He sipped it slowly. “My dad came back.”

Understanding hit Dean. “You don’t want to see him.”

Castiel ran a hand through his hair, setting it into further disarray. “He abandoned us not two days after we’d put our mother in the ground. Mike and Luc had to fight so hard to gain custody of Anna, Gabe, and me, and then we had to deal with the money. In the beginning, we could barely make rent or pay for food. Mike and Luc make a decent living, but there’s five of us altogether and student loans they’re still paying off. That’s why Anna and Gabe got jobs when they were fifteen. Because of dad, they sacrificed so much, especially Gabe.”

Dean thought of the enigmatic, eccentric man Sam couldn’t seem to stay away from. “Why Gabe especially?”

“Mom loved to read, and Gabe loved listening to her read. She kept books upon books in the house. We used to have an entire library.” Castiel took a shaky breath. “And then she got sick. When she went blind, Gabe read to her whenever he could—got a different book every week and read to her every day. He kept all those books with him after she died, just reading and reading all the time. I remember walking into his room some mornings, and he’d be sleeping with a book still open on his pillow.”

Castiel paused a long moment, and Dean stayed silent, waiting patiently. The expression on Castiel’s face was raw, his pain and grief visible in the slight frown of his lips and the crease between his brows. “After dad left, we needed money,” Castiel continued. “The government wouldn’t allow Mike and Luc to have custody unless they could show that they were financially competent. We were short a couple hundred, so Gabe sold almost all the books in our library, even the ones Mom had bought and the ones he’d bought for her. And he just kept smiling like it was all okay.” Castiel let out a sound between a chuckle and a sob. “Sometimes I think Gabe’s optimism was the only thing that kept us all from breaking down and giving up. He was only fourteen then.”

Dean had always thought of Gabe as an irresponsible playboy, but now, he thought it was just how he appeared on the surface. To Castiel, Gabe was the responsible big brother who’d held their family together in impossible circumstances through great sacrifice. No matter Dean’s misgivings, he respected Gabe for that. 

“So you don’t want to go home to see your dad because you’re mad at him for hurting your family?” Dean asked.

“That’s definitely part of it.” Castiel sipped his coffee, uncertainty in his eyes.

“What’s the other part?”

Castiel carefully set his mug down, letting the steam from the cup drift up into his face. “I’m afraid.”

Dean’s brows furrowed. “Afraid of him?”

Castiel shook his head. “I’m afraid he hates me. Stupid, I know. I shouldn’t give a damn what he thinks about me, but...I do.”

“Why would he hate you?”

Silence followed the question. Castiel stared down into his coffee, and Dean thought he saw tears in his blue eyes. For a long minute, neither of them spoke, then so quietly Dean strained to hear it, Castiel rasped, “I killed my mother.”

Dean blinked. “What?”

Castiel drew in a breath slowly. “Mom had brain cancer. She had no chance of surviving, and she was suffering a lot. She lost her vision. It was hard for her to remember things. Sometimes she would forget what she was doing or where she was. Sometimes she’d forget who we were. And one day, I caught her taking a bunch of pills. I was twelve. I understood what she was doing, but she asked me not to call the ambulance until she’d fallen asleep.” He paused a moment, closing his eyes tightly. His next words came out as a strangled whisper. “And I did.” 

Dean didn’t know what to say, so he reached across the table and took Castiel’s hand. “My family says they don’t blame me,” Castiel continued, “but I know they do. It’s my fault she’s dead.”

“No, Cas,” Dean said gently. “You were young. She should never have put that on you.”

“But that’s why Dad left. He couldn’t stand me anymore.”

Dean tightened his grip on Castiel’s hand. “Look at me.” 

Castiel opened his eyes and looked up at Dean. “No matter what you think happened,” Dean said firmly, “none of it was your fault. Your mother chose to take those pills, and there’s no guarantee that she would have survived, regardless of if you’d called that ambulance sooner or not. Even then, she would have died in pain from her illness.”

When Castiel looked down sadly, Dean reached up and lifted his chin, bringing those blue eyes back to him. “I don’t know much about parenting,” Dean said, “but I know this. No decent human being would abandon his kids. No matter what your father thought, he was wrong to leave, and he was wrong to blame you for something out of your control. It’s not your fault.”

Tears spilled from Castiel’s eyes. Dean walked around the table, knelt beside Castiel, and pulled him into his arms. Castiel buried his face into Dean’s shoulder as he cried—the smell of cigarette smoke and coffee rising from his clothes.

After a minute, Castiel quieted, but didn’t pull away. Dean ran a hand through Castiel’s messy hair. The action seemed natural, almost instinctive. “I’m sorry,” Castiel rasped into Dean’s shoulder.

“Shh. It’s okay.” Dean continued to run his hand through Castiel’s hair. 

A comfortable silence fell between them—warmed with the scent of cigarette smoke and coffee.


	7. Walls Don't Have Ears, Dean Has Ears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to all the Sastiel lovers. Here are some goodies for you.

When Sam returned home after being politely kicked out of the Shurley house by Gabe, he hadn’t expected to see Castiel asleep on his living room couch. Dean sat on the adjacent sofa with his Calculus homework and textbook. “Cas is going to be staying with us for a little while,” Dean said, looking up from his work to Sam. “Did you see his dad?”

Sam nodded dazedly and set his backpack at the foot of the couch. “He showed up about twenty minutes ago. Gabe kicked me out just after.” He glanced at Castiel. “Why isn’t Cas at work?”

“His boss gave him the night off because his injuries were interfering with his work.” Dean glanced at Castiel, concern and compassion in his gaze. “He was here when I got home. He’s not ready to face his dad, not yet.”

Sam nodded in understanding. “That’s probably for the best. I thought Gabe was about to kill his dad. I’ve never seen him that angry. I can only imagine what Anna’s going to do.”

Dean scowled. “Honestly, I’d like to beat their dad as well. Who the hell does he think he is? Leaving them and then showing up again five years later.”

Sam’s cell phone rang, interrupting the conversation. He pulled it out. “It’s Anna,” he said.

Dean nodded. “Take it.”

Sam accepted the call and held the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“Sam? Is Cas with you?” Anna sounded panicked.

“Yeah, he’s asleep right now, but I can wake him up if you want to talk to him.”

She sighed in relief. “No, that’s fine. I was just worried that he—” She stopped abruptly. “Never mind. I’m just glad he’s okay. You mind looking after him for a couple days?”

“Yeah, it’s no problem.” Sam glanced at Castiel’s sleeping form. “And if you guys need anything, Dean and I are here.”

“Thanks, Sam. This is going to be harder on Cas than any of us, and he needs support.”

“We’ll look after him.”

“Thank you—for everything.”

“Of course.”

There was a pause where Sam could hear the soft thud of a car door closing. “Either Mike or Luc is going to come by with some of Cas’ things tonight. They’ll want to talk to your parents. I’ll call you tomorrow morning to check in.”

“Okay.”

She hung up. Sam stuffed his phone back in his pocket and turned to Dean. “Anna’s going to call again tomorrow morning. Mike or Luc is going to come by tonight to drop off Cas’ stuff and speak with Mom and Dad.”

Dean let out a tired breath. “This is a mess, isn’t it?”

“That’s one way to put it.” Sam sunk onto the sofa beside his brother. “Did Cas talk about his dad at all?”

“Yeah. He cried for a bit after, then passed out on the couch. He’ll have to tell you the story himself. It’s way too personal for me to repeat without his permission.”

Sam nodded and sighed back into the sofa. An odd thought struck him. “Aren’t you supposed to be at Lisa’s? What are you doing home?”

Dean’s face fell, and Sam immediately regretted asking. “Lisa told me she got a soccer scholarship to Indiana University,” Dean said, “but she doesn’t want a long distance relationship after we graduate. I’m trying to figure out if we should stay together until the school year’s over or break it off now.”

“Shit, man. I’m sorry.”

Dean shrugged. “I feel like this was coming for a while now. We both knew that we probably wouldn’t go to the same college.”

“Still, that’s rough.” Sam offered a sympathetic look. “I really thought you guys were going to be together forever.”

Dean chuckled humorlessly. “What—high school sweethearts who actually made it? Yeah, I don’t think I’d be that lucky.”

“Well, you never know. Maybe Lisa will change her mind, or someone new could show up.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “You want Cas to hole up with you? I don’t mind sharing my room with him if you don’t, but you two are sort of dating—I think.”

Sam smiled slightly. “He can sleep in my room.”

Dean leaned his head back on one of the sofa’s armrests. “You should make a decision soon, Sam. Cas and Gabe are both in a weird place right now. I don’t think you should make it weirder with this whole indecision thing.”

Sam’s immediate reaction was to defend himself, but he didn’t. His brother was right. He had to make a choice soon. “How’d you know it’s narrowed to Cas and Gabe?” he asked, casting Dean a wary look.

“You’ve been staring at Gabe’s ass more than Jo’s or Anna’s, and you look at Cas like he’s your favorite pie.”

“Pie’s more your thing.”

Dean waved his hand dismissively. “You get what I mean. You want a piece of Cas.”

“He is very good-looking...” Sam trailed off.

Dean cocked a brow. “I’m sensing a ‘but.’”

Sam pushed his hair back from his face. “But I don’t know him that well yet. I mean, I only met him a couple weeks ago.”

Dean’s eyes turned to Castiel’s sleeping form. “Yeah, I guess so.” He stood. “I’ll get dinner started. Coffee’s in the pot, if you want it.”

Sam nodded. His brother walked into the kitchen, and he turned his attention to Castiel. None of the mysterious, hard facade Castiel usually wore was visible in his sleep. He looked oddly peaceful. Sam drifted over to his side and knelt. He brushed Castiel’s hair back. Blue eyes opened and set on him. “Sorry, did I wake you?” Sam said, but continued to move his hand through Castiel’s hair.

“Feels nice,” Castiel mumbled blearily and closed his eyes again. He was asleep again in an instant. Sam almost laughed. Castiel may have been rough around the edges, but he had cute moments.

“Hey, creeper,” Dean said from the kitchen. “Don’t watch people sleep. This isn’t Twilight.”

Sam rolled his eyes with a smile and stood. “It’s not like I broke into his house to watch him sleep. He broke into mine.”

“And he’s here to stay, so don’t be creepy.” Dean pulled a pan from the cabinet beneath the stove. “Now, go do your homework.”

“Yes, Mom.”

Dean shot his brother an unimpressed look and set the pan on the stove. Sam picked up his bag from the foot of the couch and walked to the dining table. When he started his homework, it didn’t escape his notice that Dean would glance back at him and Castiel every so often, like their mother did when they were younger. Sam guessed that everything that was happening had put Dean into big brother mode, meaning he’d be more overprotective than usual for a while. Sam hoped Castiel wouldn’t mind being babied while under the Winchesters roof.

#

The man didn’t look particularly extraordinary, yet he was probably the most intimidating man Dean had ever met. He was stoutly built, but not fat. His dark suit, despite being well-tailored, fit a little too snugly on him. An imposing air encircled him, and his blue eyes swept over his surroundings periodically, as if he were looking for some threat. He stood on the Winchester’s porch with a duffle bag in one hand. “Hi,” he greeted Dean who’d opened the door for him. “I’m Lucifer, Castiel’s older brother.” He held out his hand.

Dean shook it, unsurprised to find the man’s grip almost painfully firm. “I’m Dean.”

Lucifer’s grip faltered. He looked Dean over a moment with an almost predatory stare before replying, “Nice to meet you.”

Castiel came up behind Dean, and Lucifer’s expression shifted from dreary to elated in less than a second. “Hey, kiddo,” he said. “I brought your stuff.”

Castiel blearily rubbed his eyes and took the duffle bag from his brother. “Thanks, Luc.”

“You doing all right?” Lucifer asked, concern plain on his face.

“Yeah, I’m just tired.” Castiel offered a small smile. “Dad staying at the house?”

“No, Anna wouldn’t allow it. She actually chased him out with a chair leg.”

If Castiel was surprised, he didn’t show it. “What happened to the rest of the chair?”

“She broke it from throwing it at him.” Lucifer ran a hand through his sandy brown hair, as if the gesture could erase the memory. “Dad’s staying at a nearby hotel, but he’s going to show up at the house often to...talk...I guess. He was a little vague about why he came back, but you don’t have to come home to see him if you don’t want to.”

Castiel nodded, but didn’t reply. Lucifer brushed his younger brother’s hair back gently. “He asked about you.”

“Yeah?” Castiel mumbled.

“Mm-hm. Then Gabe told him to go fuck himself and to stay away from you.”

Castiel smiled. “Of course he did.”

Sam came down the stairs and stopped when he saw Lucifer, who returned his stare. “Hey, Luc,” he greeted politely. “I’ll get my dad. You wanted to talk with him, right?”

Lucifer nodded. “If it won’t be too much trouble.”

Sam left and returned seconds later with his dad. John Winchester offered Lucifer a smile but not his hand. “Hi,” he greeted. “I’m John. I’d shake your hand, but my own hands are covered in engine grease.”

Lucifer returned his smile. “That’s all right. I’m Lucifer, Castiel’s older brother. Is your wife here? I’d like to speak with you both privately.”

“Mary’s working late tonight, but you can speak with me.” John turned to his sons. “Boys, why don’t you get Cas settled upstairs?”

Dean nodded obediently and followed Castiel and Sam up the stairs. They turned right at the top to Sam’s room. It was significantly cleaner than Dean’s. All the books and clothes were put away where they should have been. Musical theatre posters decorated the walls.

“I’m going to get started on my English homework,” Dean said at the door. “You can handle things from here, right, Sam?” He gave his brother a meaningful look.

Sam caught on. “Yeah, I’ve got it.”

Dean nodded and walked next door to his room. He didn’t really have English homework to do, so instead, he booted up his computer and looked through his email.

“This is Dean’s old sleeping bag,” Sam said, voice filtering in through Dean’s open door and partially through the wall. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, that’s fine. Thanks,” Castiel replied.

Dean knew he shouldn’t have been eavesdropping, but his email wasn’t all that interesting. “Or we could...share the bed,” Sam said awkwardly.

There wasn’t an immediate reply, then Castiel said, “We could.” There was amusement in his voice. Dean had to wonder where Castiel found the confidence to be amused by Sam’s awkward attempts at courtship. Any other teenager probably would have been babbling like Sam, especially in front of a crush.

“Okay,” Sam said. “I’ll...uh...put the sleeping bag away.”

Castiel chuckled. “You can relax, Sam. I won’t bite...unless you want me to.”

Dean’s hand slipped over his mouse, and he accidentally opened a spam email. If Castiel had this much confidence, why had he needed Dean’s help to get a date with Sam? Maybe it was because Gabe and Anna had been all over Sam. Siblings did complicate things.

There was a shuffle behind the wall, then the muffled creak of the bed taking weight. “Do you want me to?” Castiel asked in a sultry tone Dean hadn’t thought the guy capable of.

“I...uh…” Sam trailed off. The bed creaked more. Dean cursed his house’s thin walls. He closed his door and dug through his bag for his headphones, but didn’t get them on in time to miss the soft gasping through the wall.

This was not happening.

Plugging his headphones into the computer, Dean started Pandora. Survivor filled his ears, drowning out any sounds that could have been heard in the next room over.


	8. Bet on It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you can spy with your little eye what I've hidden in this chapter, you win.

The sets for theatre were only half-done. Sam had spent the past few days helping cut and carve pieces of wood into proper shape, then he’d hand the pieces over to be polished and painted. He was staying late after school today to help design the rotating parts of the set for _Noises Off_. Instead of having one large set piece that rotated, the tech team had decided to divide it into three rotating parts that latched together. It required more hands and coordination to make the set changes, but it also took less time and made the set more mobile.

Castiel sat on one side of the shop, painting a prop picture. Sam kept glancing at him while sanding a piece of wood. Sharing a bed had effectively made it impossible for Sam to keep his hands off Castiel in the evenings. They’d never gone beyond kissing—albeit not always on the mouth—and Sam wasn’t sure how far he was willing to go. With Gabe, it was easier. Gabe had explicitly stated that he didn’t want sex until Sam had chosen him exclusively. Sam knew the boundary, but he wasn’t sure with Castiel. He wasn’t even sure if he wanted to consider sex until he’d made a commitment to either Gabe or Castiel.

“Hey, lover boy,” Charlie said next to Sam. Her red hair was tied back into a ponytail and paint spattered her front. “Quit ogling Cas and sand like you mean it.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled and sanded the wood on the table with new vigor.

She looked around the shop, her green eyes narrowed. “Where’d Anna go?”

He shrugged. “It’s already late. She probably went home.”

“She never leaves until Cas does.” Charlie walked around the back of the shop, navigating through the various props, tools, and art supplies scattered around the room. She disappeared behind the back door. Sam assumed she was headed for the green room and continued working.

A minute later, a distant scream rang through the air. Castiel and Sam dropped what they were doing and sprinted for the green room in the building over. Dick stood in the midst of costumes strewn over the couches and floor. Anna lay at his feet, blood trickling from a gash on the side of her head. Charlie knelt beside her, a costume dress in her hand. She pressed the fabric to Anna’s wound, but Anna only responded with a weak groan, eyes looking around the room dazedly.

Faster than Sam could see, Castiel slammed Dick face first into the wall. Pure rage contorted his face into a dark expression. “Cas, don’t,” Anna said weakly, eyes struggling to focus on her brother. “He’s not worth it.”

“I’ll fucking kill him.” Castiel’s voice was even and icy, no hesitation or uncertainty whatsoever. He didn’t sound like he was making a hollow threat. If anything, he sounded resolved to follow through.

“Stop.” Anna’s tone was gentle. “Don’t do this again. You’re better than this.”

Castiel’s grip on the back of Dick’s neck faltered. The anger suddenly left his eyes. He stepped back. Dick crumpled to the floor, coughing. Anna let out a sigh of relief just before her eyes closed, and she lay limp.

“Anna?” Charlie said, voice breaking. “Anna, no.”

Sam pulled out his phone and dialed for 911 while Castiel hurried to Anna’s side. “911, Lawrence Emergency,” said the responder through the receiver.

“We need an ambulance,” Sam said quickly. “Truman High School. She was attacked. Her head...it’s bleeding. She’s unconscious..”

“Okay, an ambulance is on its way. Can you stay on the call with me?”

Sam watched as Castiel cradled his sister’s head in his hands, panic in his eyes. “Yeah, I can stay on the call.”

#

The hospital was more crowded than Dean thought it would be. He and Sam had asked their mother to drive them over as soon as she’d come home, and she’d obliged. Dean felt guilty about asking her to return to work right after she’d come back—she hadn’t even changed out of her scrubs—but if she was bothered, she didn’t show it.

The nurse at the front station smiled when their mother approached. “Weren’t you just here, Mary?” he said.

“Can’t seem to stay away.” She frowned. “I’m actually here because a friend of my boys was just admitted today with a concussion.”

“Oh, no. Let’s see what I can do.” As the nurse talked, Dean looked around. This front section of the hospital was plain-looking and spacious with blue tile and white walls. People walked through, heading down different halls or chatting in the chairs spotting the area. Most of the light came from the large windows forming the entire left wall.

“Dean, Sam,” Mary said, looking back at her sons. “Come on.”

They followed her down a long stretch of hall—past various departments marked with large, metallic letters—until they came to an elevator. “Did Cas go with the ambulance?” their mother asked, hitting the three button.

“Yeah, he refused to leave Anna’s side,” Sam said and let out a tired breath.

She nodded, as if she’d expected the answer. The elevator rose. Anxiety twisted in Dean’s gut. Concussions could be fatal. What if Anna never woke up? How would Castiel deal with that? He’d already suffered so much.

When the elevators opened, Mary started down another hall, walking with the confidence of someone who knew the building’s layout well. Sam and Dean followed, glancing at the rooms on either side of the hall where various amounts of people resided. Some were crying. Some looked worried. Some seemed resigned.

In the second to last room at the end of the hall, the Shurley family stood around their only sister. She was awake with bandages wrapped around her head and a scowl on her face. “I’m fine, damn it,” she hissed. “You can all stop looking like you’re at my funeral.”

Castiel stood closest to Anna, looking tired but relieved. He turned to Sam and Dean when they stopped in the doorway. “Hey,” he said thinly.

Dean wanted to offer some kind of comfort to Castiel, but all he could think to say was “Anna sounds like herself.”

Gabe grimaced. “Yes. Her usual, angry self.”

She poked him in the stomach, making him jump with an unmanly squeak. Lucifer stood next to a young-looking man whom Dean didn’t recognize. The man had sandy brown hair like Lucifer, but it was a shorter and sticking up at odd angles. His form was deceptively lean, as muscle definition showed from the black thermal clinging to his chest and arms. Dark jeans sagged around his hips, making him look almost insultingly casual in contrast to Lucifer’s suited figure.

He looked at the Winchester curiously a moment before approaching them. He held out a hand to Mary. Various scars covered it. “You must be Mrs. Winchester,” he said. “I’m Michael, the oldest brother.”

She shook his hand with an amiable smile. “Nice to meet you, Michael.”

He looked at Sam. “Good to see you again, Sam.” When Sam nodded a silent greeting, Michael turned to Dean. “You must be Dean.”

Dean looked Michael over, surprised that the oldest brother looked Gabe’s age. “Yeah, nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Michael shook Dean’s hand before returning to Lucifer’s side.

“Thank you for coming, boys,” Lucifer said with a smile, then offered Mary a polite smile. “And it’s lovely to finally meet you, Mrs. Winchester. I’m Lucifer.”

She returned the smile. “Nice to meet you.” She looked up at her sons. “I’m going to see if I’m needed elsewhere. Call me when you’re ready to go home.”

Dean and Sam nodded simultaneously. He gaze turned to Anna. “I hope you recover quickly.” With that, she left.

Dean walked up to the foot of Anna’s bed. “How you feeling?”

“Like I owe Dick the beating of his life,” she grumbled.

“Well, someone ought to beat Dick,” Gabe muttered. “His own fist is probably sore.”

Lucifer gave his younger brother an unimpressed look. “Could you not make dick jokes while we’re in the hospital?”

“I’m just saying that the guy should stop stroking himself.” When Lucifer grimaced, Gabe added, “I meant his ego—stroking his own ego.”

Anna poked her brother in the stomach again. Castiel just shook his head. “The police have arrested him on assault charges,” Michael said. “Luc has a friend who’s going to handle the settlement.”

“Can we afford that?” Anna asked, brows furrowing.

Michael squeezed her shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, sweetie. We’ll sort out everything.”

Castiel shoved his hands in his pockets and looked down at the floor. The chains on his black denim jeans clinked together softly with his movements. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

Anna’s gaze softened. “Cas, it wasn’t your fault.”

“I should have been paying closer attention.”

She reached out and pulled his hand from his pocket. “You’re not my protector. You’re my baby brother. Don’t put this on yourself.”

He squeezed her hand. “I was going to kill him. I wanted to.”

“I know.” She rubbed the back of his hand with her thumb. “But you wouldn’t have. You didn’t when he attacked Lisa.”

He didn’t reply. Dean looked around the room. Michael and Lucifer looked solemn. Gabe’s usual drollness had gone from his face, replaced by worry. Sam’s expression was a mix of concern and apprehension.

When Dean returned his attention to Castiel, all he saw was fear. Dean could only assume Castiel’s fear was directed at himself—at what he could do. “Thanks again for protecting Lisa,” Dean said, just to remind Castiel that he had done good.

The ghost of a smile touched Castiel’s lips. Michael and Lucifer gave Dean grateful looks.

A form appeared in the doorway. The middle-aged man had wide, blue eyes and gray-streaked curls. His trenchcoat hung off his slight form. Sweat beaded over his face and neck, and he breathed heavily, as if he’d been running. Castiel stiffened when he saw him. The man halted when he saw Castiel. “I’ll...uh...come back later,” he said and turned to leave.

“Wait,” Castiel said. The man stopped. “You can stay.”

The man turned back slowly. Hesitantly, he stepped into the room. “Dean, Sam,” Castiel said in an unnaturally even tone. “This is my dad, Charles Shurley.”

“Oh, uh, please just call me Chuck,” the man said, looking a bit twitchy.

An unexpected flare of anger burned in Dean’s chest at seeing Castiel’s dad, but he held it down, knowing that picking a fight with Chuck was not his place. Sam seemed to struggle with a similar anger, face contorted into a scowl.

“How are you, Anna?” Chuck asked uncertainly.

“Okay,” she said, glancing between Castiel and Chuck warily. “I’ve just got a killer headache, and they’re keeping me overnight for observation.”

Chuck nodded, looking relieved. “What happened? The nurse who called me wasn’t very informative.”

Anna quirked her lips in thought. “It’s sort of hazy, but I remember Dick, this asshole at school, ambushed me, saying something about Lisa and Cas. I think I told him to go fuck himself, then Charlie, a friend of mine, walked in. Dick hit me with...I think it was a costume boot. Then Cas and Sam came, and I don’t really remember anything after that.”

“Whose Sam?” Chuck asked.

She pointed at the man in question, then to Dean. “This is his brother, Dean. They’re our friends. They’ve been letting Cas stay with them.”

Chuck offered a small, uncertain smile. “Thank you for looking after him.”

“Well, you weren’t going to do it,” Gabe muttered.

Chuck’s face fell.

“Gabe,” Castiel said in a warning tone.

“What? I’m just speaking the truth.” Gabe glared at Chuck. “What the hell are you doing on our emergency contact list anyway?”

“You can blame me for that, Gabe,” Lucifer said. “I figured after he left that he might actually return a call if it were from a hospital.” He glanced at Chuck. “Seems I was right.”

Gabe grimaced. “Why would you want to do that? _He left_.”

Lucifer cocked a brow. “Yes, and now he’s back. Isn’t that interesting?” There was something subtly menacing in Lucifer’s voice, and Gabe seemed to pick up on it, lowering his glare to the floor.

“I should go,” Chuck said, seeming to figure out that his presence was only going to make his family fight. “I’m glad you’re okay, Anna.”

She narrowed her eyes at her father. Dean could almost see her trying to decide whether or not to tell Chuck to stick his gladness up his ass. “Thanks,” she said after a moment.

Chuck padded out of the room, hanging his head. Dean almost felt sorry for the guy. Almost.

Castiel let out a heavy sigh, and Anna reached up to brush his hair back from his face. “You okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” He forced a small smile. “Today’s just been really, really stressful.”

She patted his cheek. “Go home and get some rest. I’ll be here tomorrow.” When he frowned, she rolled her eyes. “Go, Cas. I’ll be fine.”

Michael glanced between Castiel and Dean. “Are you going to come home with us or with Sam and Dean?”

Castiel looked back at his brothers, then to Sam and Dean. “Can I stay with you guys, just for a little longer?”

“Of course,” Dean said. “You can stay as long as you like.”

“Be careful about that,” Gabe muttered. “He might never leave.”

Oddly, Dean didn’t mind that idea. “I’ll call Mom,” Sam said and pulled out his phone.

Castiel walked toward the foot of the bed, nearer Dean and Sam. He looked both grateful and miserable at the same time. Carelessly, Dean ruffled Castiel’s hair. “What kind of face is that?” he teased. “We’re not that hard to live with, are we?”

When Castiel’s face reddened in embarrassment, Dean’s heart skipped a beat. He took his hand back slowly and rubbed the back of his neck. Where had that come from?

Sam hung up. “Mom’s going to meet us at the car,” he said. “Ready to go?”

Dean looked at Castiel expectantly. “Yeah,” Castiel mumbled. “Ready.”

When they turned to leave, Dean could have sworn he heard Anna whisper, “Pay up, Gabe.”


	9. It's Not What You Think

Morning light filtered through Sam’s bedroom window. His eyes fluttered open and turned to the clock on his nightstand. 5:43 glared back at him, over an hour before he had to get up. He sighed and turned to the warmth at his side. Castiel lay beside him. He slept on his stomach with his face turned toward Sam. Before he could think about it, Sam brushed the wild strands of hair from Castiel’s forehead.

“You’re up early,” Castiel mumbled.

Sam jolted and withdrew his hand. Castiel opened his eyes, a corner of his lips turning up. “Good morning,” he said.

“Good morning,” Sam mumbled, feeling oddly self-conscious under the stare of those blue eyes. “How long have you be awake?”

“Probably about an hour now.” Castiel shrugged. “I always wake up early. I think it’s because I used to have the morning shift at a coffee shop during the summer.”

“So you’ve been waking up before me for the past week? Why don’t you get up?”

Sadness flashed across Castiel’s face, but it left as quickly as it came. Sam wasn’t sure if he actually saw it, and when Castiel slid over to straddle Sam’s hips, any speculations went out the window. “It’s cold out of these sheets,” Castiel said. “What would I do without you to keep me warm?”

Sam’s face heated. If he’d learned anything in the past month, it was that the Shurleys were a family of bold individuals. Castiel and Gabe flirted shamelessly if given the opportunity—Gabe more so, but that probably had to do with his inability to keep any sexual thought in his head. Anna didn’t so much flirt as just say whatever she wanted whenever she wanted, but she could be poetical about it when the mood struck her.

Castiel bent down and kissed Sam lightly. In the morning, the taste of cigarettes didn’t linger on Castiel’s lips, and Sam found himself as enthralled with the taste as the lip ring pressing into his skin.

A loud bang sounded downstairs, followed by a long series of loud curses. Castiel drew back, brows knitted together. “Do you think Dean broke something?” he asked.

Sam frowned. “I hope he’s okay.”

They got up reluctantly and padded downstairs. Dean was in the kitchen, running water over a red line across his palm. A large stack of pancakes sat by the stove on a plate. “Shit, shit, shit,” Dean repeated over and over under his breath. Castiel came up beside him, and he jumped. “Jesus, Cas! Don’t just pop out of nowhere!”

Castiel ignored his words and looked at Dean’s burned hand, then the pan on the floor. “It’s generally not a good idea to grab hot pans.”

“I was distracted and my hand slipped,” Dean muttered defensively.

Sam walked up and took Dean’s hand, inspecting it carefully. “It’s not that bad. You haven’t blistered.”

Dean snatched his hand back. “I’ll be fine,” he grumbled. Sam knew that Dean didn’t like being looked after. Dean took care of himself, as well as everyone else—though never the other way around.

Castiel took a washcloth from a drawer by the oven and ran cold water over it. After wringing it out, he carefully wrapped it around Dean’s hand, tying it at the back. Dean let him without protest but frowned the entire time. “Why did you make pancakes?” Castiel asked.

“We were out of bread and eggs,” Dean muttered. “Do you not want the pancakes?” He almost sounded petulant.

Castiel had a wry look, amusement in his eyes. “I never said that.” He picked up the cool handle of the pan and placed it on the stove. His eyes turned to the stack of pancakes. “They look good.”

Dean rubbed the back of his neck with his good hand. “Yeah, thanks. Just eat or something while I make our lunches.”

“You don’t have to do that. Sam and I can make our own lunches.”

Dean narrowed his eyes. “Just sit down and eat.”

Castiel looked thoroughly amused, smile stretching his mouth. Dean had always made Sam’s lunch since they were kids, and now that Castiel was living with them, he’d been making lunch for him, too. It had probably never even occurred to Dean to let Sam or Castiel make their own lunches. Dean just wouldn’t allow a guest or his little brother to fend for himself.

Sam carried the plate of pancakes to the dining table while Castiel got maple syrup, two plates, and utensils. They sat across from each other and ate quietly while Dean shuffled through the kitchen, cursing every so often when he rubbed his burn the wrong way. Sam noticed that Castiel watched Dean with that same amused expression, as if Dean were the best comedy he’d seen. Castiel was seldom amused by anything, but Sam found that Dean had a knack for making the broody punk laugh—even if only from the comicality of Dean’s stubbornness.

Mary walked into the living room and stopped when she saw Sam and Castiel. “What are you boys doing up?” she asked. “It’s six.”

“I woke up early,” Sam explained, “and Cas always wakes up early. We came down, though, because Dean dropped a pan and burned his hand.”

Mary walked over to her oldest son and unwrapped the cloth around his hand. She inspected the burn carefully while he grimaced. “It's a first-degree burn,” she said. “We’ll slap some aloe vera on it later.”

“Yes, doc,” Dean muttered, earning an unimpressed look from his mother. She took the cloth, ran cold water over it, and tied it over his hand again. He immediately went back to packing lunches.

“What am I going to do when you go off to college?” she asked with a sigh, getting a mug from the cabinet. “My little boy’s going to leave me.”

“I guess Sam will have to take over,” Dean said, glancing back at his brother with a smile. Sam returned the smile weakly. It was strange to think that Dean would be leaving next year. Castiel would, too, for that matter. Then it would just be Sam.

He picked at his pancakes with a sinking feeling. It was childish, and he knew it. Dean and Castiel couldn’t stay around forever. They had their own lives to live, just as Sam did. Nothing lasted forever.

In order to hide his depressing thoughts, Sam poured a large amount of syrup on his pancakes and cut them into small pieces. “We haven’t gone anywhere yet,” Castiel said and nibbled on a piece of his pancakes.

Sam glanced up. Castiel had a knowing look, tinged with sympathy. Maybe Sam didn’t give Castiel enough credit for perceptiveness. Sam offered a reassuring smile in answer, and Castiel returned it. They did still have time together. It was best to enjoy it.

#

“I want to break up,” Dean said.

Lisa’s expression didn’t change from its somber resignation. “I thought you would,” she mumbled.

Dean’s heart was breaking, but he had to go through with this. “I think that if we end it now, we can give ourselves time to heal. That way when we graduate, we can still be friends—if that’s what you want, I mean.”

She nodded. “Yeah, I’d like to try to be friends, but can we just keep some distance between us for a while?”

His chest constricted. “If that’s what you want.”

“It is.”

He drew in a deep breath. “Then, I guess this is it.”

“Guess so.” She gave him a rueful look. “Bye, Dean.”

He watched her walk out of the gym. For a long minute, Dean stood alone, feeling numb. His thoughts kept turning to regret. He should have just stayed with Lisa. Maybe he could have convinced her to have a long-distance relationship. But then he’d remember that once Lisa decided on something, she didn’t change her mind. It was better this way. They’d be okay in the long run, even if it hurt now.

Before Dean knew it, he was outside the gym and in the field. The sun was bright in the sky, and a cool wind swept through the open expanse of grass. Castiel lay under a tree, cigarette between his lips. He stared up at the reddening leaves, looking oddly peaceful. Dean walked across the field and sat beside him. “You look like hell,” Castiel commented.

“I broke up with Lisa,” Dean heard himself mumble.

There was a long pause, then Castiel sat up. He took the cigarette from his lips and curled his legs up. “I’m sorry.”

“It was inevitable.”

“Doesn’t make it any less hard.”

Wasn’t that the truth. Dean hunched over, holding his face in his hand. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

A soft touch drifted across Dean’s shoulder, then settled into the weight of Castiel’s arm. “You’ll figure it out,” Castiel said. “You’re smart, and you have goals. That’s more than most people can say.”

Dean didn’t know how it happened, but a tear slipped from his eye. “Shit, this is pathetic,” he muttered and wiped at it.

Castiel didn’t say anything. Instead, he pulled Dean closer. At first, Dean tensed, then relaxed into Castiel. He wasn’t used to being held. It was a completely foreign feeling, but Castiel was warm. The smell of smoke drifted off him and mixed into the autumn air. Dean closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Minutes passed in comfortable silence.

“I’m going to see my dad tomorrow,” Castiel said quietly.

Dean opened his eyes and turned his head to look at Castiel who stared out over the field, cigarette between his fingers. His face was unreadable. “I think it’s time,” Castiel continued and withdrew his arm from Dean’s shoulders. “I can’t avoid him forever.”

“Do you know what you want to say?” Dean asked.

“Yes and no.” Castiel inhaled on his cigarette and exhaled slowly. “I was going to ask you to come with me, but you’re dealing with a break-up.”

“I’ll go with you.”

Castiel looked at Dean, brows furrowed. “Are you sure? It’s probably going to get messy.”

“Don’t worry about that.” Dean had a curious look. “Wouldn’t you rather take Sam with you, though?”

Castiel didn’t reply. Sadness seeped into his eyes, and he returned his gaze to the field.

Dean’s eyes widened. “He didn’t dump you, did he?”

“No, nothing like that.” Castiel inhaled on his cigarette.

“Then why do you look like that?”

Castiel sighed. “It’s nothing. Just my own worries.” He folded his arms over his knees and rested his chin on them. “You’re a good friend, Dean.”

Dean’s heart skipped a beat, in the same way it had when they were in the hospital. Maybe he had palpitations. He should consult his mother. “You’re a good friend, too.”

Castiel offered a small smile. The bell rang, signifying the end of lunch. Dean stood a little too quickly. Castiel took the tin from his jacket and snuffed his cigarette in it. “Anna said she would drive me to Dad’s hotel after school,” he said and stood. “Meet you by your locker tomorrow?”

“Yeah, sounds good.” Dean shifted nervously. “What are you going to tell Sam, though? He’s probably going to be offended if you just take me along.”

“I’ll tell him the truth, even if he doesn’t want to hear it.”

Dean had known the answer before Castiel had said it, but it was oddly reassuring to hear it all the same. Castiel was honest to a fault. He wouldn’t fabricate a story to avoid admitting whatever reasoning compelled him to take only Dean. “Is Sam going to be angry with me about this?” Dean asked.

“No.” Castiel didn’t offer more explanation, and Dean didn’t ask.

They started toward school, then went their separate ways.


	10. Ripples

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got some stuff going on with a new book and short story I'm looking to publish, so if I don't post the next chapter by Saturday, y'all just chill. A'ight? I gotta make the money.

“So you’re taking Dean, but not me,” Sam said, lying beside Castiel in bed. He didn’t know how to feel. Jealous, maybe? Confused? Disappointed?

Castiel stared up at the ceiling, hands folded over his stomach. “My dad doesn’t know I’m gay, and I’d feel uncomfortable having a...lover...see him, knowing that I won’t introduce you as such. With Dean, I don’t have to worry about that, and I don’t have any other friends besides him and you who know about my family history.”

Sam sighed. Even if he didn’t like Castiel’s reasoning, he respected it. “All right. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Castiel smiled, but Sam thought the expression strained. “Thank you,” Castiel said as he turned his face into Sam’s shoulder. “I’m sorry about all this.”

“It’s okay.” Sam turned and wrapped his arm around Castiel’s waist, pulling them closer together. “Let me know how it goes.”

“I will.” Castiel moved closer until their foreheads touched. His eyes closed.

“Are you going to sleep?”

“No, I’m just resting my eyes.”

Sam smiled in amusement. “I’ve heard that one before.”

Castiel answered with a sleepy groan. Within a minute, his breathing evened and the tension of consciousness left his muscles. Sam pulled up the sheet and kissed Castiel’s forehead. Minutes later, sleep would prevent him from seeing Castiel’s eyes open into a sad stare.

#

“Hey, Dean!” Anna shouted from across the hall.

Dean turned from his locker to look at her. She strode toward him, people parting before her. “I have to tell you some things,” she said when she was within comfortable talking distance.

Dean took his Calculus book from his locker and slid it into his bag. “What’s up?”

“You need to be prepared to get physical during Cas’ meeting with Dad.”

“‘Get physical?’” Dean repeated, cocking a brow. “If your dad lays a hand on Cas, I will not hesitate to lay that bastard out.”

Anna smiled slightly. “Good to know, but my dad probably doesn’t even know how to slap someone.” Her smile turned into a concerned look. “No, I’m worried that Cas will beat the shit out of dad.”

Dean grimaced. “I don’t think Cas would do that.”

“You didn’t know him when Dad left.” Anna’s expression was grim, lips thinned to a harsh line. “He used to get into fights every day. The smallest things would set him off. He finally stopped when he almost killed another boy.”

Dean focused a hard look on Anna. “But he didn’t kill anyone, did he?”

“No, but—”

“Then I don’t see what you’re worried about.”

Anna stared at Dean intently for a long moment, then said, “I hope you’re right.”

Sam and Castiel approached from up the hall. They were smiling about something, but when they saw Dean and Anna, their smiles fell. “I thought we were going to meet you at home,” Castiel said to Anna.

“Yeah, well, plans change,” she muttered. “C’mon, I gotta get to work.”

Castiel and Dean followed Anna after giving Sam apologetic looks. They walked the short distance to the Shurley’s house where Anna ushered Castiel and Dean into an old, scratched, dented, silver minivan. Dean sat with Castiel in the back, unsure what to expect and nervous about what might happen. Then he saw Castiel’s hands shaking in the guy’s lap. Right now, Castiel didn’t need more nervousness. He needed Dean to be his support.

Dean laid a hand over Castiel’s, feeling it vibrate. When Castiel looked at him, he offered a reassuring smile. Castiel drew in a deep breath and nodded. The tension never left his body, but his hands stilled. Dean returned his hand to his side, and Anna backed out of the driveway.

The hotel turned out to be the Oread, one of the more upscale hotels in the city. Dean wasn’t sure exactly what it was he had expected, but it wasn’t the Oread. The place resembled a castle with sand-colored bricks and square build. It looked almost ominous against the overcast sky. “Your dad’s staying here?” Dean blurted when Anna pulled up.

“Yep,” she said. “His room is four-thirty-five. Now, get out. I’m going to be late.”

“Don’t you still have a concussion? Why don’t you take a couple days off?”

“I’ll stop working when I’m dead.”

Dean shook his head and crawled out of the car with Castiel. As soon as the doors were closed, Anna drove off.  Dean clasped Castiel’s shoulder. “You ready?”

Castiel narrowed his eyes at the hotel. “I don’t know.” He looked up at Dean. “But I need to do this.”

Dean nodded in understanding. They walked into the hotel and followed signs to the stairs. Castiel seemed to tense more with every step he took, but he didn’t hesitate. His steps going up the stairs to the fourth floor were sure, and his eyes never lost their focus as he walked down the hall to room 435. The only sign of reluctance came when he paused briefly before knocking on the wood.

Seconds later, the door opened. Chuck stood in sweatpants and a T-shirt. Dark rings rimmed his eyes and his stubble had begun to turn into a full beard. He froze when he saw Castiel. “Oh, hi,” he said lamely.

Castiel met Chuck’s eyes unwaveringly. “Can Dean and I come in?”

“Of course.” Chuck stepped aside, allowing the boys inside. He closed the door after them before hurrying inside. “It’s a bit of a mess right now.”

Dean looked around. The room had one bed against the left wall. A door beside the entryway led into a large bathroom that looked like it had been freshly cleaned—or perhaps never used. The carpet filling the main room was a soft beige, complimenting the amber walls. A coffee table beside the TV on the right wall was covered in papers. Notebooks and stray papers spotted the floor and bed.

Chuck took a stack of notebooks off two chairs by the coffee table and laid them under the table. “Please, uh, sit,” he mumbled.

Dean and Castiel sat in the chairs while Chuck settled on the foot of the bed, facing them. “It’s good to see you, Castiel,” Chuck said, rubbing his hands together in his lap nervously.

Castiel’s eyes swept over the room. “What are you doing?”

“Huh? Oh, I’ve been trying to get a working draft together for a new book I’m writing.” Chuck looked around him. “I’m still not very good at organizing my notes.”

“Since when did you start writing?”

Chuck shrugged, but his expression grew grim. “About five years ago. Seems I have a knack for it. I’m on the fourth book of a series now, actually. I use a pen name, though—Carver Edlund.”

Dean’s brows rose in surprise. “You’re the author of the _Supernatural_ series?”

Castiel looked equally surprised, and also angry. “So you’ve been raking in money from your books and left us to barely scrape by year after year?”

Chuck looked confused. “No, I didn’t start making real money until last year, and then, I wired most of it to Lucifer this summer when he would finally talk to me. He didn’t tell you?”

“He hasn’t said anything about it.” Castiel looked troubled, but then shook his head, as if dispelling his doubts. He stared out the window in the back wall for a long moment in silence. A light drizzle had started, leaving beads of water on the glass. “I came here to ask you why you left and what you’ve been doing since then.”

Chuck looked sadly down to the floor. “I’ll tell you, if you want.”

“I’m not sure what I want, but I would ask that you tell me all the same.”

A heavy sigh escaped Chuck. He kept his eyes turned to the floor. “I suppose I should start with the very beginning.” He paused for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts, then said, “When your mother got sick, I fell apart. She suffered more and more every day. Lucifer and Michael tried to help take care of her with me, but they weren’t always with her, not like I was. So I drank more. Some nights, I would drink until passed out. Lucifer took care of me most then since Michael was busy with work, and after your mother died, Lucifer continued to take care of me.”

Shame contorted Chuck’s face. “One night, after he’d put everyone to bed, he found me drinking on the couch. He got angry with me and took away my scotch. I was drunk and tired and grieving and...just angry. I snapped at him, and we got into an argument. Then, I—” His voice broke. He inhaled deeply before continuing. “I hit him.”

Castiel’s shock was clear on his face, but he didn’t speak. “I knew then,” Chuck continued, “that I wasn’t fit to be a father. I was afraid that drinking would make me violent, that maybe I’d hurt Michael or Gabriel or Anna or you next. So the next morning, I packed my things and checked into rehab. Lucifer said he forgave me before I left, but I didn’t deserve forgiveness. I _don’t_ deserve it.

“I’ve been sober four years now. I wrote my first book in rehab, started a new career in writing, and that’s what I’ve been doing since. I was always afraid of returning because I didn’t know how to face any of you. You all deserve a better father than me.”

Castiel pulled his gaze from the window to look at his dad. “We do.” He folded his arms across his chest. “You know, for a long time, I thought you left because I killed Mom.”

Chuck looked as if Castiel had struck him. “What? No, Castiel, I never thought that. If anything, I...I wished that I’d been the one to give your mother an end to her suffering, so that you wouldn’t have to live with the guilt. It should have been me. I knew she’d wanted to kill herself before the cancer ruined her mind completely, and I should have been the one to help her when she needed it most. She should never have asked you.”

Castiel closed his eyes, a pained expression on his face. “I want to hate you. It would be so much easier. Do you have any idea what it’s like to lose both your parents in one week?”

“I’m sorry.”

Silence fell, save for the soft patter of rain on the window. For a long minute, no one spoke, then quietly, Castiel said, “I understand why you left. I don’t think it was the best choice, but I understand it.” He took a deep breath. “I forgive you.”

When Chuck opened his mouth to speak, Castiel held up a hand, silencing his father. “I’m forgiving you, not for you,” he continued. “I’m forgiving you for me. I’m tired of being angry at you, and I’m choosing to move on.”

Chuck seemed at a loss for words, staring at Castiel with wide eyes.

“I don’t know about the others, but I’m willing to get to know you again, if you choose to stay now.”

“I...thank you, Castiel,” Chuck mumbled, seemingly in awe. Hope sparked in his eyes. “I’ll stay as long as you’ll let me.”

Castiel nodded and stood. “Then I’ll talk with everyone and see if they’ll let you back in the house—assuming Anna doesn’t have access to more chairs.”

Chuck smiled slightly and stood to meet his son levelly. “I don’t even have words to express how thankful I am.” His smile turned sad. “You’ve grown into such a fine man. I can’t believe I missed that.”

Castiel offered a small smile. “I guess you’ll just have to stick around to catch up.”

Chuck’s eyes brightened. “I guess so.”

Castiel looked at Dean and jerked his head toward the door. Dean stood. “We should go,” Castiel said. “I’ll see you later.”

Chuck smiled at that. “Okay.”

Dean followed Castiel out of the room. They walked wordlessly back through the hall, down the stairs, and out the lobby. Rain was pouring freely from the sky. Castiel looked up at the clouds, dry beneath the hotel’s front overhang. “I’m sorry about all this,” he mumbled.

“Don’t be.” Dean wrapped his coat around him tighter against the rain-chilled wind. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Castiel’s gaze turned down thoughtfully, a small smile at his lips. “You really are impossible,” he whispered almost inaudibly.

“What?” Dean asked, unsure what he’d heard.

“Nothing.” Castiel pulled his phone out. “It’s early still, but Gabe should be able to pick us up.”

“Okay.”

While Castiel called his brother, Dean looked up at the sky. The raindrops looked like tears, reminding Dean of Castiel’s tattoo of the moon crying into an ocean of ripples. He didn’t understand what all of it meant. A dove that held the moon in its wings. A moon that weeped into a sea. A sea that formed the rings of Saturn. They all probably had some symbolic meaning.

“He’ll be here in fifteen minutes,” Castiel said, hanging up.

Dean nodded. “You want to just hang out here then?”

“If you don’t mind. I like the rain.”

“Yeah, me, too.” Dean smoothed Castiel’s hair back. “You feel okay after all that?”

Castiel let out a slow breath. “I don’t really know how I feel right now, but I think I did the right thing. I think we all deserve second chances.”

Dean knew he would not have been as magnanimous as Castiel were he in his place, but he admired Castiel’s generosity. The world needed more people like Castiel. “Don’t ever change,” Dean said.

Castiel took a cigarette from a pack in his pocket and lit it between his lips. He inhaled slowly and exhaled a warm puff of smoke—a smile on his lips.


	11. Pumpkin Lights

Halloween came as a surprise. With everything had happened in the past couple weeks, a holiday seemed an inconsistency, a breath of air after being submerged in water too long. Sam was thankful for it. Everyone needed a bit fun, and he was happy to see the Shurley family in higher spirits. Two days ago, Dean had brought home four pumpkins. The day after Anna had invited Sam and Dean to spend Halloween at their place. Mary had insisted that her sons take the pumpkins with them to the Shurleys’ house, and now on an overcast Friday afternoon, Sam, Dean, and Castiel were carving pumpkins at the dining table. 

There were a total of ten pumpkins. Castiel had carved most of them, and after Sam and Dean had carved one each, they’d let Castiel do the rest. He was extremely talented, carving detailed pictures into the face of every pumpkin. When Sam retreated to the kitchen to nibble on plate of vegetables Anna had laid out, he wasn’t surprised to find Gabe and Lucifer talking amusedly about Castiel’s pumpkin-carving skills.

“He’s always been the arty one,” Lucifer explained to Sam. “When he was younger, he was inseparable from his sketchbook. Now, he has too many sketchbooks to know what do with.”

Gabe had a fond look that he only got when thinking of his little brother. “I bought him a professional set of pencils and charcoal for his tenth birthday, and he would hardly come out of his room. He used them up within two months.” Gabe frowned suddenly. Lucifer caught the expression and gave his brother a understanding look.

“He’s better now, Gabe.”

“I know. I know. Just sometimes...I worry.”

Sam’s brows furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

Lucifer and Gabe exchanged a glance. “Well, believe it or not,” Lucifer said, “but Cas used to have no piercings and didn’t smoke and didn’t get tattoos with a fake I.D.”

Gabe shook his head. “I think he would’ve gone this path, even if Mom hadn’t died and Dad hadn’t left. They just gave him a push.”

“If not for Mom and Dad, I have trouble believing the Castiel who gave you a new picture every day in kindergarten would have become the broody delinquent who nearly brained a kid for looking at Anna funny.”

“You’re never gonna let that go, are you? He was thirteen.”

“Oh, I’ve let it go, but he sure as hell hasn’t.”

Gabe grimaced at that, but didn’t speak again. Sam felt as though he was infringing on a much too private conversation, but if either Gabe or Lucifer minded having Sam listen in on them, they didn’t show it.

Dean walked in with a bowl of pumpkin guts and dumped them in the trash by the stove. "Cas still going?" Sam asked.

Dean nodded. "He's carving an anatomically correct bat."

"How many more pumpkins does he have to go?" Lucifer asked.

"Three, I think. He's got plenty of time to finish before we see any trick-or-treaters, though." Dean had a slight smile. "Is he like this every Halloween?"

Gabe nodded. "Kid's an artist. I'm surprised he wants to be doctor."

Dean's brows rose. "He does?"

"Yeah, he wants to be a pediatrician, of all things. I mean, he looks like he came out of a punk magazine. Can you imagine him working with little kids?"

Dean smiled. "Yeah, actually. I bet he'd make a great pediatrician."

Gabe had no reply, and Dean didn't seem to expect one. He left with the bowl in his hands. Gabe and Lucifer exchanged meaningful looks that Sam didn't know how to interpret. Lately, he felt as though everyone in the Shurley family knew something he didn't when it came to Castiel, and that had to be true on many levels—they’d grown up with him. But Sam had a feeling they were hiding something. He had no idea what it could be, and that troubled him more than simply not knowing. Castiel was kind and fun and smart, but he always kept some distance. Sam had thought it was due to the fact that Castiel didn't want to bring in more emotional intimacy until they were exclusive. But maybe not. Maybe something else was going on.

"Hey," Gabe said to break through Sam's troubled thoughts. "You all right? You look worried."

Sam smiled. Gabe could always tell when he was troubled. "No, I'm just tired."

Gabe had a wry look. "We got a long night ahead of us. No time to be tired."

"That right? And what were you planning to do tonight?"

"Come up to my room, and you'll see."

The invitation sounded lascivious coming out of Gabe's mouth, but there was something innocent in his eyes that made Sam think that he really had something in his room to show off. "Okay," Sam said.

Gabe took his hand and led him out the kitchen to a hallway leading to a bathroom and a stairway. They walked up the stairs and down a longer hallway. Gabe's room was at the end. Two adjacent walls on the far side were painted green. The other two walls were white, and the trim was black. The carpet was almost a gold color. A bookcase sat in the green corner. It was mostly empty. Only two shelves were full. The rest held child's drawings and pictures of a dark-haired, strikingly beautiful woman Gabe had once said was his mother. Sam had always wondered why the bookcase was so empty and why Gabe never talked about it, but after hearing Castiel's story, he understood and respected Gabe profoundly for the sacrifice he'd made for his family.

The child's pictures were probably Castiel's. Thinking back, Sam could vaguely recall Gabe telling him about the pictures being the kindergarten gifts of his elusive younger brother who was never around because of work. The crude but oddly impassioned drawings not only covered the bookcase, but the walls. There was one piece of art that stood out from the rest. It was a portrait of Gabe's mother. She was beaming as she held a grinning, amber-eyed boy who looked no older than five. The hazy bits of blue, green, and gold behind her formed the filtered light shining through the leaves of a tree. Sam had always thought it was just a large photo, but looking at it closely, he could see the brushstrokes that formed the painting. Castiel truly was an amazing artist. 

"Cas gave that to me on my fifteenth birthday," Gabe said, noticing Sam's scrutiny. "He found this old photo of me and my mom when I was about four while cleaning out the basement. Instead of just giving me the photo, he painted this, added a bunch of color that had faded from the photo." Gabe stared at the painting a moment, sadness and fondness mixed into one expression. "He really is incredibly talented. I think he captured the feeling of the moment that the camera couldn't—the happiness of it. I honestly don't remember when this photo was taken, but looking at the painting makes me feel that I do." He ran a hand through his hair. "But I didn't drag you up here to talk about my competition. I have things to show you."

Sam watched curiously as Gabe went to his closet and pulled out a black suit. "I had trouble finding your size," Gabe said, "but luckily, Lucifer had an old suit that should fit."

Sam stared at the suit a moment. It was plain black with an angular cut that gave it a sharp look. "Why do I need a suit?"

"I think that you'd look intimidating in one. I plan to make this Halloween as scary as possible, which means being creative.  We need enough scariness to make high schoolers shit their pants."

"And me in a suit could do that...how?"

Gabe had a crooked grin that he saved only when he was planning mischief. "So here's the plan. You greet trick or treaters, being all pleasant but menacing at the same time. Then when they've been lulled into a false calm, I jump out of the shadows in a black cloak."

Sam cocked a brow. "Wouldn't it be just as effective if you jumped out by yourself? Why do I have to greet them?"

"You have no imagination."

"You just want to see me in a suit, don't you?"

"I really want to see you in a suit."

Sam sighed with a smile. "Fine." He started unbuttoning his shirt. "Do I have to wear a tie, too."

Gabe stared at the bare muscle Sam exposed as he unbuttoned his shirt. "If you want. Luc lent me a red tie."

Sam pulled his shirt off and tossed it on the bed. "A red tie and a black suit? How edgy." He pulled his pants off and laid them by his shirt. Gabe stared at him with unabashed desire. Sam might have blushed, but he was used to Gabe ogling him. He cleared his throat, making Gabe look up. "The suit?"

Gabe didn't hand it over. Instead, he laid it on the bed and slid up against Sam, so they were chest to chest. "I change my mind," Gabe said in a low voice. "I like you without the suit on."

Sam swept a strand of hair back from Gabe's face. "I can't go walking around in my boxers."

"Then I guess you'll have to stay." Gabe stood on his toes and pulled Sam's head down. Their lips touched with unexpected softness. Not for the first time, Sam wondered what had compelled Gabe recently to kiss him with such tenderness when he was usually the most fierce. It was startling but not unwelcome. If anything, Sam liked the gentle pull of Gabe's lips on his and the deliberate movement of his mouth. But maybe not tonight.

Sam's hand threaded through Gabe's hair as he deepened the kiss. Gabe responded wholeheartedly. His tongue teased between Sam's lips in question. Sam groaned deep in his throat and opened his mouth in invitation. When Gabe hooked Sam's upper lip with his tongue and between his teeth briefly, a shot of electricity rebounded through Sam. His restraint shattered. He pushed Gabe against a wall, drawing in his taste. A breathless gasp escaped Gabe before he arched into Sam.

"Gabe! Did you eat all the pie!" Anna called from downstairs.

Gabe and Sam jumped apart. "I put it out on the dining table for Dean!" Gabe called back.

"Dean!"

Gabe and Sam stared at each other, breathing heavily. "I should...help Anna," Gabe mumbled. "Just come down when you're dressed."

Sam nodded, and Gabe left. It was best they didn't do anything more while the whole family was home. Gabe knew he had to cool down. Sam needed that as well, but the desire to hold Gabe down and make him moan burned like a fire in Sam's chest. He could still feel Gabe's lips, still taste his tongue, still smell his cologne, still hear his gasps. Gabe seemed to permeate Sam's very being. It was as unnerving as it was thrilling.

Sam glanced at the suit lying on the bed. At least, Halloween promised to be interesting.

#

Dean walked into the kitchen with a bowl of pumpkin guts and dumped them in the trash by the stove. Sam, Gabe, and Lucifer stood around the sink. "Cas still going?" Sam asked.

Dean nodded. "He's carving an anatomically correct bat."

"How many more pumpkins does he have to go?" Lucifer asked.

"Three, I think. He's got plenty of time to finish before we see any trick-or-treaters, though." Dean had a slight smile, amused with seeing Castiel work so intensely for the past two hours. "Is he like this every Halloween?"

Gabe nodded. "Kid's an artist. I'm surprised he wants to be doctor."

Dean's brows rose. "He does?"

"Yeah, he wants to be a pediatrician, of all things. I mean, he looks like he came out of a punk magazine. Can you imagine him working with little kids?"

Dean smiled. Castiel may have looked intimidating, but he had a soft side to him, an innate gentleness that rivaled his mother’s manner. "Yeah, actually. I bet he'd make a great pediatrician."

Gabe seemed surprised by Dean's admission, but Dean wasn't interested in getting into a conversation about Castiel's potential competency. He walked out of the kitchen with the empty bowl, only to stop in the hall. Castiel leaned against the wall, blushing ear to ear. "I was going to ask where you left the extra knives," he said. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop."

Dean smiled fondly. "I meant what I said, you know. I do think you'd make a great doctor."

Castiel's blush brightened. "Thanks."

Dean started toward the main room, trying to hide his amusement. It wasn’t easy. Castiel was so humble he could never take a compliment without blushing. Dean found it endearing. "I hid the knives in the cat pumpkin, so Gabe wouldn't find them. He said earlier that he wanted to use them as a tool for scaring trick-or-treaters. I don't want to test just what he means by that. The last thing we need is some kid getting stabbed accidentally."

Castiel searched the pumpkins sitting at the foot of the dining table until he found the one with the carving of a ferocious looking cat. He pulled out a small, delicate knife and started carving fine details into the pumpkin he was working on. Dean watched, as he had been, in interest. Everything Castiel did was meticulous, but when he was doing art, there was an almost tranquil air about him. He was never so at ease as when he was making something beautiful.

Gabe walked out of the kitchen with Sam in tow. They slipped into the hall leading upstairs. "Doesn't it bother you?" Dean asked before he could stop the question from leaving his lips.

Castiel didn’t reply immediately, his face revealing nothing. Dean hoped that Castiel would ask for explanation, and then he could brush off the topic. But Castiel was much too perceptive. "Is it bad that it doesn't?" he asked in a soft voice. 

Dean frowned. "No, but Gabe is your brother. I mean...it doesn't get...weird?"

"Gabe and I have an understanding. This will never come between us."

The words were so cold and blunt that Dean suspected it wasn't the entire truth. "Are you happy?"

Castiel paused, his hands stopping their careful work. He kept his eyes on the pumpkin. "With Sam, you mean?"

Dean nodded.

"I'm happy with Sam. He's very kind and generous."

It almost sounded to Dean like Castiel was trying to convince himself of his own words. "What'll you do if he chooses Gabe?"

Castiel sighed heavily. "Go back to doing what I did before, I suppose."

"Which was?"

"Brooding up and down the halls."

It took Dean a moment to realize Castiel was joking, but when he did, he laughed. Castiel smiled and continued working again. "I think you've got the brooding covered," Dean said. "Any more of it and men will swoon at the sight of you."

Castiel cocked a brow. "Really? Perhaps I should practice my brooding then."

"Oh, no. I shouldn't have said anything."

Castiel chuckled.

"Gabe! Did you eat all the pie!" Anna called out, voice booming through the entire house.

"I put it out on the dining table for Dean!" came Gabe's answer.

"Dean!" Anna walked into the main room. She looked at Dean, then the partially eaten pumpkin pie on the table. "This was supposed to be eaten after dinner."

Dean shrugged. "Gabe offered it, and I can't say no to pie."

She shook her head and took the dessert from the table. "I haven't even started dinner and already people are stealing food," she grumbled to herself. "Honestly, I don't know why I bother."

Castiel gave his sister an apologetic look. She looked over the pumpkins surrounding his feet and the orange shards building up in the bowl on the table. "Have you taken a break yet?" she asked Castiel.

"I don't need one," he mumbled.

She grimaced. "You better be taking a break the next time I come in here." With that, she left. Gabe came down the stairs seconds later, looking hot and bothered. His hair was slightly more mussed, and a flush colored his face. Dean frowned at the sight. Just how long did Sam plan to yank Gabe and Castiel around? An unexpected spark of anger burst in Dean. He smothered it immediately. No matter Sam’s life choices, he was still Dean’s little brother. Besides, it wasn’t as if Castiel and Gabe weren’t willingly giving themselves over to this odd relationship. They could decide what they wanted. Dean had no right to judge them or his brother for that. 

By the time Anna had finished dinner, Castiel was done carving. Dean, Sam, Gabe, Lucifer, and Michael then went about putting candle in the pumpkins and placing them around the yard. There were no other decorations, but Dean found the assembly of glowing, beautifully carved jack-o-lanterns stunning. They shone as warm lights in the overcast evening, casting shades of gold into the deepening shadows. 

“I went overboard again,” Castiel mumbled, looking out over the yard from the patio. 

Dean leaned against a post supporting the overhang. “I think it’s pretty.”

It was hard to tell in the dim light, but Dean thought he saw Castiel blushing again. Michael rolled his shoulders after setting down a pumpkin near the front walkway. He looked drained. “You all right, Mike?” Lucifer asked, leaning against the railing surrounding the patio.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired. Work’s been murder. It’s a miracle I got the night off.”

Gabe patted his older brother’s back. “Just don’t pass out on us again. You’re heavy.”

Michael swatted Gabe’s hand away. “I changed your diaper and carted you around for years. Don’t complain to me about playing caretaker.”

Gabe rolled his eyes. “Obviously, you’ve never had to carry you up a flight of stairs with only Anna to help you. She wanted to give up halfway and just leave you on the stairs.”

“My family is so considerate,” Michael muttered sarcastically. “I can’t believe I raised such caring, generous children. Luc, can you believe these children we raised? They’re just so selfless.”

Lucifer grinned. “Yes, they are.”

Michael frowned. “I was being sarcastic.”

“I know. I wasn’t.” Lucifer had a small smile. “I think we raised some amazing, selfless kids. Take pride in it.”

Michael relented and wrapped an arm around Gabe’s shoulders. “Yeah, I suppose we did.”

Dean had never seen Gabe stunned speechless—hadn’t even thought it possible—but Gabe’s ears turned red and an awkward smile spread his silent lips. Sam chuckled. He’d been standing quietly in the shade of a tree near the sidewalk. The suit he wore fit him well, but he didn’t have a tie, which made him look like a club bouncer. 

A small, gray car pulled up at the curb, and Chuck stepped out. Everyone froze. Chuck looked around, looking afraid. “Um...I was invited,” he mumbled, “to...dinner.”

“Who invited you?” Gabe asked.

“I did.” Anna stepped out from the front door, staring straight at Chuck. “If Castiel’s willing to forgive him. I think we can give him a second chance.”

Gabe scowled. “But he—”

“We all know what he’s done, Gabriel. I’m not saying you have to like him, but I think we should give him a chance to explain himself.” She looked at Lucifer. “And you, for that matter.”

Lucifer cocked a brow. “What did I do?”

She gave him a knowing look. “I don’t worry about money for nothing.”

When he paled, she went back inside the house. Castiel stared at Chuck. “Help me set up the table,” he said and turned to go inside.

Chuck closed his car door and shuffled up the walkway, looking out of place. His trenchcoat fluttered around his legs. Dean watched him walk past, feeling ambivalent. In truth, he understood Chuck’s decision to leave when he knew he could have been dangerous. The fact that Dean felt he would have done the same thing ate at him. It almost felt like a betrayal to Castiel. But Dean would have rather made his family hate him than become a danger to them. 

Lucifer, Michael, and Gabe followed their father inside, but Sam and Dean hung back. Sam walked over to his brother, looking concerned. “Should we leave?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Dean mumbled. “Maybe. I don’t know how comfortable they’d be with us here.”

Anna poked her head out from the front door. “What are you guys doing? Get in.”

Sam and Dean exchanged looks, then walked inside.

\---

In case you ever wondered what Castiel's tats looked like:


	12. Before We Fall

Dinner was interesting. It was silent for the first ten minutes, save for the clink and scrape of forks rolling spaghetti noodles on plates. Then Anna prompted Chuck to relay his entire story. Lucifer grimaced the entire time. He seemed to be the most disturbed by Chuck’s story than anyone. Gabe had a slight frown, but seemed otherwise unfazed. Anna looked like she wanted to break a chair over her father again at the beginning, but as Chuck continued talking, the anger slowly drained from her face. Michael’s composure never cracked. He seemed almost disinterested in Chuck’s story, eating with a calm expression.

Sam didn’t know what to make of the whole thing. On one hand, he understood why Chuck had left. On the other, he felt it would have been more responsible to stay and get professional help locally. Lucifer and Michael certainly would have helped Chuck through alcoholism. Anna probably would have just beaten it out of her father. Gabe would have found ways to make Chuck laugh. Castiel would have made more paintings than his father would know what to do with. They would have figured it out if only Chuck hadn’t decided on his own.

“So you just up and left because you hit Luc?” Gabe said. “What—did you deck him?”

Lucifer shot his brother a pointed look. “He nearly broke my collarbone, if that’s what you mean.”

Chuck paled. “I didn’t realize I hit you that hard. I’m...so sorry. I’m sorry.”

Lucifer waved a hand dismissively. “You were in a bad place.”

“That’s no excuse.”

“Well, we can’t change it now, can we? It’s in the past.”

Michael looked up from his food. “You could have asked for help, Dad. We would have helped you through it.”

Chuck stared down at his half-eaten pasta. “You’d already lost your mother. I didn’t want you to have to take care of me, too.”

“It should have been our decision!” Gabe snapped, hand striking the table with enough force to make it tremble. “Damn it, Dad, we would have helped you! We could have—” Gabe’s voice broke. He took a deep breath before continuing. “It was hard when Mom died, but when you left, too, we had nothing but ourselves. Do you understand how hard it is to lose both your parents like that? Anna and I nearly dropped out of school to help Mike and Luc out with work. Cas was nearly taken into foster care. We barely made it through that first year intact.”

Chuck bowed his head. “I know. I can never make up for what I’ve done, but I came back to try. If you want me to leave, though, I will.”

Gabe scowled, but didn’t speak.

“I don’t think you did the right thing, Dad,” Anna said abruptly, voice calm, “but I understand why you did it. And honestly, if I’d known back then that you’d hurt Luc, I would have killed you.”

Chuck nodded. “I know, and you would be right to do so.”

Michael looked around the table. “Should we take a vote, then? How many of you want Dad to stay here?”

Silence followed the question, then Castiel raised his hand slightly. “I do.”

“Me, too,” Anna said.

“Yeah, why not?” muttered Lucifer.

Gabe frowned, but grumbled, “Sure.”

Michael nodded. “All right, then it’s settled. You can come home, Dad.”

Chuck smiled. “Thank you.”

Anna looked at Lucifer. “And what about you? What happened to that ten-thousand dollars Dad wired us?”

Lucifer nearly choked on the spaghetti in his mouth. He chewed and swallowed carefully before looking at Michael. “You want to tell them?”

Michael leaned back in his chair. “After Luc paid off all our debts, I put the rest of the money aside in another account.”

Anna narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

He smiled slightly. “I’m going to be a father soon. Luc and I thought I should have a cushion for that.”

Anna’s jaw dropped. Castiel blinked. Gabe grinned. Chuck’s brows shot up. Sam and Dean didn’t know how to react, so they settled for mild surprise.

“When did this happen?” Gabe asked, looking more amused than anything.

“Esther told me last month. We were planning to get our own place soon, then get married after the baby’s born.”

“Holy hell,” Anna muttered. “Uh...congratulations.”

Michael smiled slightly. “Thanks.”

“How long have you and Esther been together?” Chuck asked.

“Three years. We’ve been holding off marriage and everything because my income goes to the family.”

“Don’t worry about finances,” Chuck said. “Everything I have belongs to all of you.”

“Us,” Anna corrected, meeting her father’s eyes. “It’s yours, too.”

Chuck looked like he was on the verge of tears, but the sound of the doorbell ringing interrupted any response he might have had.

Castiel got up to answer it, stopping in the kitchen for a bowl of candy. “Trick or treat!” the children at the door chimed when Castiel opened the door. He gave them each candy.

“Whoa, your tattoos are pretty, mister,” said one of the kids.

Castiel chuckled. “Thank you, but I think your magic wand is way prettier.”

“It makes flashy lights!”

“Oh, my goodness. That’s so cool. I should get a wand like that.”

“Yeah, with flashy lights.”

A distant voice said, “Emma! C’mon! We have more houses to visit.”

“Okay, Mom!” The rhythmic patter of feet hurrying away sounded.

Castiel closed the door, a wide smile on his face. Sam watched curiously as Castiel set the bowl on the dining table before sitting down again. Dean had been right. Castiel was great with kids.

“I told you,” Dean muttered to Gabe who responded with an eyeroll.

Castiel gave them an odd look, but didn’t ask for explanation. The conversation eased afterward with Michael answering whatever questions the family threw at him. Trick-or-treaters interrupted every once and a while, and once the frequency increased, Gabe pulled Sam outside to do some scaring.

Gabe liked jumping out of the shadows on the patio in his black cloak, and Sam busied himself with handing out candy to people in his suit. Gabe never scared little kids. If they were scared of him, he would crouch down to their height and make silly faces until they were comfortable enough to approach. Sam admired Gabe’s ability to charm anyone in less than a minute. He was just naturally charismatic.

“You really okay with your dad staying?” Sam asked when the amount of trick-or-treaters had diminished.

Gabe pulled the hood of his cloak down. “I don’t know. I’ve been angry with him for almost five years. It’s hard to just let that go. I’m willing to give him a shot, but that’s about it.”

Sam nodded. “I’m here if you ever want to talk or anything.”

Gabe smiled and leaned against Sam, so they were shoulder to shoulder. “I know. Thank you.”

Sam absently ran a hand through Gabe’s hair. A comfortable silence fell between them that was broken only by more trick-or-treaters coming up the drive.

#

Dean and Castiel remained in the house while Sam and Gabe delighted themselves in scaring anyone who approached. Dean probably should have joined them—it'd been a while since he'd let himself have fun—but he'd decided at the ripe, old age of nine that it was his responsibility to look after his brother or the house during Halloween. Even after Sam had become old enough to look after himself, Dean had always hung back at home, never accepting a party invitation unless Sam had.

Castiel sat at the dining table with a sketchbook and a variety of pencils. Dean watched from the couch. He had been watching TV, but Castiel was much more interesting. He looked to be drawing a portrait of a man. Dean couldn't make out the face from his distance, but the drawing wasn't what fascinated him. It was the way Castiel drew. A tranquil air surrounded him. Each line formed beneath his pencil was purposeful, careful—almost reverent. He wasn't drawing for anyone but himself.

"How long do you plan to watch me?" he asked, breaking Dean's trance. His back was mostly to Dean, but he could have seen him peripherally.

Dean felt his cheeks heat and turned away. "It looks cool."

"It's Sam."

A pang of a harsh emotion shot through Dean, though he couldn't identify what emotion it was. Anger? Irritation? Disappointment? "Do I get a picture?"

When there was no answer, Dean returned his gaze to Castiel. The pencil had stopped over the paper. Castiel's shoulders were tensed.

"I was just teasing," Dean said. "You don't have to give me a picture."

"I know." Castiel's hand moved again. "Maybe I'll draw you later."

"Okay." Dean's brows furrowed in confusion. He was certain he'd never completely understand Castiel, but the mystery of the man was intriguing, all the same.

"What do you like about Sam?" Dean asked without thinking, unsure why he'd even thought of the question.

Castiel shrugged. "He's kind, smart, funny...tall."

"You like him 'cause he's tall?"

"Amongst other things."

Dean wasn't sure he wanted to know what those "other things" were. "Is it really okay with Gabe and everything?"

Castiel sighed and mumbled something almost inaudibly that sounded like, "It has to be."

Dean was about to ask what Castiel meant when Chuck walked in with a bowl of miscellaneous candy. He held it out to Dean. "Would you like any?" Chuck asked.

Dean plucked a bite-size Snickers from the bowl. Chuck moved toward Castiel and offered the bowl. Castiel took a Sour Patch Kids. Chuck sat on the part of the couch that was as far from Dean as could be. "What are you watching?" he asked.

" _Grey's Anatomy_."

Chuck's brows rose. "Oh."

Dean could have sworn he saw Castiel's shoulders shaking in stifled laughter. "It's a good show," Dean muttered defensively.

"Sure," Anna said from the kitchen, "for a teenage girl."

"You're a teenage girl," Dean pointed out.

"And I've got more balls than you." Anna walked out of the kitchen, hands red after washing dishes. She held four cans of soda. "I've got _Breaking Bad_ recorded. Put it on."

Dean reluctantly obliged her. She handed him a can of soda before giving one to her father and brother. "So what's the _Supernatural_ series about?" she asked her father and plopped down on the couch between him and Dean. "I've heard about it, but I've never read it."

Chuck rubbed the perspiration off his soda nervously. "Well, originally, it was about two brothers who go around hunting monsters, but two brothers turned into two brothers and a sister—then four brothers and a sister. They hunts monsters and save the world time and time again, even though their mother died and their father abandoned them."

Silence pervaded the room. Anna stared at the coffee table. Dean pretended to watch the TV. Castiel was no longer drawing.

After a minute, Anna muttered, "And that ended up a _New York Times_ bestseller? Lame, Dad."

Chuck smiled slightly, and the tension eased out of the air. Castiel resumed drawing. "Thank you, Dad," he mumbled.

Chuck looked back at his son. "I really missed all of you."

Anna sipped her soda. "I suppose we did, too." She turned the volume up. "Now, let me watch my drug show."

Dean glanced at Chuck surreptitiously. The man sipped his soda silently, but his eyes were bright. Dean found himself smiling before he knew it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Look" is going to end pretty soon, but I have another project lined up. If you like "Look"  
> or just my writing in general, please subscribe. Also, if you want an epilogue to "Look," let me know in the comments. If there are no votes, I'm going to default to no epilogue.


	13. Raindrops on Roses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're listening to a sad song or a playlist that has a sad song coming up or if you're in the general vicinity of a sad song, now would be the time to turn it off. And under no circumstances should you listen to Kodaline's acoustic version of "Love Like This."

Over a month passed where Chuck integrated himself back into his family. Every time Sam went over to the Shurley’s house, Chuck would be there, working with his children on his newest book. Castiel and Anna seemed to be the most welcoming of their father, which surprised everyone. Sam suspected that Castiel’s forgiveness had taken some of Anna’s reason to be angry with her father. She had resented him for blaming Castiel with their mother’s death, but with that cleared up and Castiel satisfied, she seemed willing to forgive. Gabe, on the other hand, wasn’t so quick to let go. He didn’t want to be in the same room as his father and avoided speaking around him. Sam knew that Gabe’s bitterness had to do with the sacrifices he’d made to keep their family together. Five years of hardship couldn’t be returned—nor could the books.

On a rainy afternoon, Sam and Gabe sat curled up on the couch in the Shurleys’ house. Anna, Castiel, Lucifer, and Michael were all at work, leaving Sam and Gabe relatively alone. Chuck was working somewhere in the house, but he knew better than to show himself.

Sam had yet to choose between Gabe or Castiel, but that had more to do with the fact that choosing one would hurt the other. He had to do it eventually—just not yet. Not while they were still dealing with their father returning.

“How was Thanksgiving?” Sam asked.

Gabe stretched out over the couch, resting his head on Sam’s lap. “Awkward. Dad kept talking about rehab because Anna kept asking about it.”

“Sorry.”

Gabe shrugged. “I kind of felt sorry for him actually.”

Sam smoothed Gabe’s hair back from his forehead. “You can’t avoid him forever, you know.”

“I know.” Gabe sighed and closed his eyes, letting Sam play with his hair. They fell into comfortable silence, broken only when Chuck walked into the room with a book in his hands.

Sam withdrew his hand. Gabe opened his eyes and glanced back at his father. “What do you want?” he asked. His tone wasn’t harsh. It sounded almost apathetic.

“I’ve been meaning to give this to you,” Chuck said and held up the book. It was a worn copy of Frank Herbert's _Dune_. The top right corner looked like it had been stained with coffee.

Gabe sat up and scrutinized the book a moment, then his eyes widened. “Is that…?”

“I saw it in a secondhand bookstore downtown and recognized the coffee stain.”

Gabe stood and walked up to his father. With shaking hands, he took the book. Sam watched curiously as Gabe opened to the last page. In curvy, cursive handwriting, a note read:

_To my little author,_

_Continue to read. Continue to write. One day, you’ll create worlds no one else could imagine and make characters who bring us to tears, but I know you’ll always give us a good laugh when we need it._

_May you find happiness in everything you do. May you always have the company of great people. And most importantly, may you always have a good book._

_Love,_

_Mom_

Gabe stared at the note for a long minute, his eyes scanning it over and over again.

“I don’t know if we can find all the books,” Chuck said when Gabe remained silent, “but I would like us to try—if you want, that is. I understand if you’d rather have someone else look—”

Gabe threw his arms around his father, silencing the man. “Thank you,” he rasped, tears falling down his cheeks.

Chuck was too stunned to move at first, but then his arms wrapped around Gabe tightly, as if he never wanted to let go again.

#

The green room was empty, save for the costumes and make-up supplies scattered about. Dean sat beside Lisa on one of the couches. “I think we should set boundaries,” Lisa said.

Dean nodded. “What did you have in mind?”

“No unnecessary touching. I can make an exception for goodbye hugs, though.”

“Agreed.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “And no prying into each other’s lives, so unless one of us wants to tell the other something, we don’t ask about it.”

She nodded her agreement. They stood from the couch. “You really think we can do this?” Lisa asked.

“I don’t know, but I want to try at least.”

She let out a slow breath. “Yeah.”

Dean offered a small smile. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you.”

He headed out of the green room, stopped by his locker for his books, then started out of the school. It was pouring rain, heavier than it had been just minutes ago. Students waiting for rides were huddled under the overhang at the school’s front. Thunder rolled off in the distance, the boom carrying on the frigid wind. Dean stopped at the edge of the overhang and looked up at the gray sky. He cursed to himself for giving his umbrella to Sam.

The smell of cigarette smoke drifted through the air. Dean turned to see Castiel leaning against the school wall with a cigarette between his lips. He grimaced at the sky. Dean walked over, and Castiel glanced at him. “I thought you had work right after school,” Dean said.

Castiel inhaled on his cigarette. “I did, but my boss called earlier. The streets around the restaurant are flooded. They’re closing up until tomorrow.”

Dean glanced up at the dark clouds. “My house is closer. If we run, we can probably get there not completely soaked and wait out the rain.”

“I don’t have a better plan.” Castiel took the tin from his jacket and snuffed his cigarette in it. “Let’s go.”

They ran the three blocks to the Winchesters’ house. The rain was merciless. By the time they stumbled into the house, they were soaked. “That didn’t go as planned,” Dean said and shed his soaked jacket. His shirt was wet as well, but not as much as his jeans.

Castiel frowned as he peeled his own jacket off. His hair hung in his eyes, sending drops of water down his face. Dean laughed and pushed back the wet strands. “Sorry about that,” he said between chuckles and took Castiel’s jacket. “I’ve got some clothes you can change into. We’re probably the same size.” He looked Castiel over. “Actually, why don’t you just give me your clothes now, and I’ll toss them in the dryer.”

Castiel had a hesitant look.

“No one’s here but us,” Dean assured him. “My parents won’t be home until late, and Sam’s doing God knows what with Gabe.” As soon as Dean said the words, he wanted to take them back, but Castiel seemed unfazed.

“All right,” he mumbled and stripped off his shirt and jeans, leaving him in his boxers. His muscles flexed with his movements, and Dean couldn’t help but stare at the toned ridges a moment.

“You can go on up to my room,” Dean said. “I’ll be right there.”

Castiel nodded and started up the stairs while Dean walked past the kitchen into the laundry room. Thankfully, there wasn’t a load in the dryer already, so Dean tossed the clothes in, then peeled off his shirt and pants. After throwing them in, he started up the dryer and headed up to his room.

Castiel stood by Dean’s computer, looking around. “You like the old stuff,” he commented.

“Something wrong with that?” Dean asked and opened his closet.

Castiel had a slight smile that Dean knew to mean he was amused. “Not at all.”

Dean pulled out a pair of jeans and tossed them to Castiel before pulling on a pair of his own. Castiel stared at the jeans a moment before trying them on. They fit well. Dean took a plain black T-shirt and a Pink Floyd shirt from his closet. He held them out to Castiel who then took the Pink Floyd shirt.

“You work out a lot or something?” Dean asked, observing Castiel’s upper body. “I know you’re not on a sports team.”

Castiel glanced down at himself, shirt in hand. “I swim when I have the time.”

“Really? You’re a swimmer?”

“Is that surprising?”

Dean shook his head. “Not really.” He glanced at Castiel’s tattoos. “I’ve been meaning to ask you what your tattoos mean. They look kind of arbitrary, but knowing you, I don’t think they are.”

Castiel shrugged and trailed a finger over the dove on his shoulder. “It’s something I dreamed of—a recurring dream, in fact, that I got after my mom died. A dove would come to console the moon.” His finger drifted down to the weeping moon. “The moon’s tears made an ocean.” He touched the rippling lines on his forearm. “The ocean then became Saturn.” His hand covered the planet etched in his skin. “I don’t really understand it, but it always felt like a good dream. I painted it one day. The next day, I took a fake I.D., found a tattoo artist in downtown whose style I liked, and I got it put into my skin permanently. Haven’t had the dream since.”

Without thinking, Dean traced the outline of the moon. Castiel tensed but didn’t pull away. A bead of water fell from his hairline and down the side of his face. Dean caught it at Castiel’s jaw, wiping it away with his thumb. He failed to pull his hand back. Castiel stared up at him with an ambivalent expression. Dean was suddenly and painfully aware of the heat coming off Castiel’s skin. The smell of cigarettes and rain lingered on him.

When Dean slowly leaned closer, Castiel lifted a hand to Dean’s chest, as if to push him away, but he didn’t. Somewhere in the back of Dean’s head, a voice was telling him to stop. This was a very, very, very bad idea. Castiel was in love with Sam. But Dean was so close he could taste Castiel’s breath, feel the warmth of his skin. Those impossibly blue eyes bored into him. He closed those last few inches between them.

Their lips met softly, hesitantly. Dean didn’t know what he was doing. Castiel seemed too stunned to move, but then he relaxed into the kiss, hands sliding up Dean’s neck. Dean flattened his hand against Castiel’s jaw and pressed closer, completely enthralled. Castiel tasted of cigarettes and rain. His lip ring pressed against Dean’s skin.

Something bittersweet echoed in the kiss. It was filled with the longing of repressed desire that was coming undone. There was need and tenderness, but also the knowledge that circumstances had not yet aligned for this to be right. Castiel was in love with someone else, and that someone was Dean’s brother.

Castiel pulled away abruptly, pushing Dean lightly as he did so. Without a word, he picked the shirt Dean had given him off that floor and hurried out of the room. “Wait, Cas,” Dean called after him. Castiel didn’t stop. Dean followed him.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Cas,” Dean said.

Castiel pulled on the shirt as he virtually ran down the stairs. When he got to the door, Dean caught his shoulder and spun him around. Castiel glared at him. Drops of water that were not from the moisture in his hair fell down his cheeks. He looked so angry and hurt at the same time that Dean’s chest constricted with guilt.

Dean dropped his hand. Castiel ran out the door.


	14. The Beginning is the End

As soon as the rain had stopped, Dean was out the door with Castiel’s clothes in a bag, running for the Shurley’s house. He wasn’t sure what he could say to make any of this better, but he wanted to at least talk. As soon as he reached the driveway, Anna came storming out the front door, looking like an angel of death in the darkness of evening. She gripped Dean’s collar and slammed him back into Michael’s red jeep with surprising force. The bag fell out his hands. “What the fuck did you do to my brother?” she growled, face contorted into an expression of blind fury.

He met her glare with a pleading look. “I just want to talk with him.”

Rage burned in her eyes. “You lost that privilege when he came home crying and soaked through.”

Dean’s gut twisted in guilt. “I want to apologize.”

“For what? What did you do to him?”

Dean didn’t answer—partially out of fear that telling her would get him killed and partially because he knew that Castiel had kissed him back for reasons Dean intended to discover privately.

Anna released his collar, pushing him back into the car as she did so. “If I ever see you near Cas again, I will kill you.”

She marched back into the house, slamming the door behind her. Dean picked up the bag he’d dropped, thankful it was water-proof plastic and laid the bag on the doorstep. His heart seemed to sink with every step he took away from the house. He glanced back when he made it back to the sidewalk. The flutter of a curtain in the bedroom window caught his eye, but it was probably just the wind.

#

The way Dean read Harper Lee’s _To Kill a Mockingbird_ with such intensity unnerved Sam. Dean had been sulking and generally unpleasant for the past couple days. Anna hadn’t let him within ten feet of her brother, and both Dean and Castiel had refused to talk with Sam about what had happened.

Sam wasn’t sure what to think of the entire situation. On one hand, he didn’t believe Dean could do something to Castiel that warranted the treatment he was getting, but then, Sam had seen the effects of whatever Dean had done. He could recall vividly how Castiel had trudged into the house that afternoon, Dean’s clothes clinging to his skin and dripping with rain water. He’d collapsed into the wall of the hallway and balled up on the floor, sobbing and shaking—with rage or the cold, Sam didn’t know. Gabe had nearly burst a blood vessel when Castiel had rasped that Dean was the one at fault.

“I’m going over to see Cas,” Sam said to his brother who sat on the couch of the living room. Dean grunted in response. “Any messages you want me to relay?”

“Not at all.” Dean closed his book and walked away, body filled with tension.

With a sigh, Sam walked out of the house, wrapped in a puffy jacket. It had just started to snow. Flecks of white fell from the sky on icy bursts of wind. They speckled the ground, but most of them melted soon after making contact with the earth.

When Sam reached the Shurleys’ house, he was greeted with the smell of baking cookies. Anna let him in, and he was surprised to find her not covered in flour. “Who’s baking?” he asked.

She nodded in the direction of the kitchen. “Cas. He bakes when he’s feeling bad.”

Sam frowned. “I wish they’d just tell us what happened.”

Anna let out a tired breath. “Yeah, well, I can’t stand to see Castiel like this, so I’m not going to question him for now. He’ll tell me when he’s ready.”

Of that, Sam had no doubt. The Shurley family were a close bunch, and they shared virtually everything. “You have the afternoon off?” Sam asked.

Anna nodded. “Michael talked the manager into giving me the weekend off, so I can study for my Physics exam.”

Sam was about to suggest that Dean help her study, but thankfully stopped himself. “Good luck,” he mumbled instead.

“Thanks.” She gave him a knowing look. “You can go ahead and see Cas. I’ll get out of your hair.” She left and padded up the stairs.

Sam turned into the kitchen. Castiel was rolling balls of cookie dough and meticulously placing them across a baking sheet. A spot of flour covered his cheek. He looked up from his work when Sam walked in. “Hey,” he greeted.

“Hey yourself.” Sam leaned against the countertop beside Castiel. “I didn’t know you baked.”

“Yeah, well, keep it to yourself, would you? I have a broody punk reputation to uphold.”

Sam chuckled and took a towel from the drawer under the oven. He cleaned the flour from Castiel’s cheek. “You’re doing a fantastic job of it.”

Castiel finally cracked a smile. “Careful, Winchester. The reputation’s not entirely fabricated.”

“Don’t have to tell me that.” Sam kissed Castiel’s cheek. “I’ll be good. I promise.”

Castiel’s smile grew. “Thanks for cheering me up.”

Sam wrapped an arm around Castiel’s waist. “Any time.”

Something in Castiel’s expression shifted. It wasn’t sad, exactly—resigned, maybe. Castiel returned to rolling the cookie dough. “It’s okay to choose, you know,” he said quietly. “I’ve known for a while now that you intend to pick Gabe.”

Sam dropped his hand. “No, I—”

“It’s okay, Sam. You’ve been more than good to me, but you shouldn’t drag this out any longer. The heart wants what it wants.”

Sam didn’t know what to say, so he mumbled, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Castiel gave a slight smile. “You and Gabe make each other happy. Never apologize for that.”

Sam couldn’t help but feel guilty. Castiel was perceptive—more than most people knew. He’d probably known before Sam himself that he’d choose Gabe. “So what now?” Sam asked.

“Now, we can be just friends.” Castiel offered a ball of cookie dough. “What do you say?”

Sam took the cookie dough. “I’d like that.”

#

The field was mostly frost now. Dean stood with Lisa on the outskirts of the dying grass. Bright gray clouds reflected the sunlight to near blinding levels. A cold wind swept through. “What happened with you and Cas?” she asked. “He can barely stand to look at you, and you’re just...a wreck.”

Dean blew into his hands, cursing himself silently for forgetting his gloves. “You won’t like it.”

“Try me.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I kissed him.”

Lisa was silent a moment. If she was shocked, it didn’t show on her face. She stared out over the field with calm eyes. “I had a feeling it would turn out like this.”

Dean’s brows rose. “You did?”

She nodded. “From the moment I saw you and Cas together, I could see it. You’ve always repressed the emotions that really matter, but I could see it in the way you looked at him. I honestly didn’t think it would happen this quickly, though. Love doesn’t much care for reason, I suppose.”

All Dean could manage to say was “I’m sorry.”

She waved a dismissive hand. “I forgave you a while ago. What you need to do now is accept your feelings, and don’t let this one slip through your fingers. Cas is good for you, and you’re good for him.”

Dean broke the boundary rule and hugged Lisa. “Thank you,” he whispered. “I’m sorry I wasn’t good enough.”

She hugged him back. “Don’t you forget it.”


	15. Speak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter, but I will be writing an epilogue. So stay tuned.

“Cas! Wait, please!” Dean called out, running across the theatre to get to where Anna and Castiel stood at the edge of the stage. Anna stepped in front of her brother before Dean could get too close.

“What did I tell you, Dean?” she hissed. “Stay away from him.”

Castiel gripped his sister’s shoulder. “Anna, it’s okay.”

She relaxed slightly, but continued to glare at Dean.

“I just want to talk to you,” Dean said. “I want to apologize.”

Castiel glanced at his sister uneasily, then turned back to Dean. “We can talk in the green room.”

“Cas, are you sure about this?” Anna asked.

“Not really, but I can’t avoid it forever.” He stared at Dean. “I owe Dean a talk, at least.”

She glowered at Dean as he and Castiel walked away. Charlie was in the green room with Jo. They stopped what they were doing when they saw Castiel and Dean. “Do you mind if Dean and I use the room for a couple minutes?” Castiel asked.

Charlie and Jo exchanged glances. “Yeah, sure,” Charile said warily. “Take all the time you need. Want Jo and I to stand watch?”

“That would help a lot. Thanks.”

Dean watched the two girls leave the green room with knowing looks. Just who didn’t know that Dean and Castiel were fighting?

When they were alone, Dean faced Castiel. “Before you say anything,” he said carefully, “I need to explain something.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes and nodded wordlessly.

Dean drew in a deep breath, heart pounding. “I like you, Cas, as more than friends. That’s why I kissed you. I’m sorry I hurt you because of it. That’s the last thing I wanted.”

Castiel was still. Save for the slight rise and fall of his shoulders with his breaths, he appeared to be a statue. “Why are you telling me this?” His voice was rougher than normal, as if something had caught in his throat.

“Because I wanted you to know how I feel, even if nothing will come of it.”

Castiel shoved a hand through his hair roughly. “This can’t be happening.”

“I know you like Sam, but I was hoping—”

“Hoping for what!” Castiel snapped. “That I’d just come running into your arms? That I’d forget about the fact that you’re straight? That I could date Lisa’s ex-boyfriend? She’s my friend, too, you know.”

Dean grimaced. “I was hoping we could forget about Lisa for a moment and just talk about us. Besides, she’s already told me she approves of you and me.”

“There is no ‘you and me.’” Castiel shook his head. “You have some nerve Dean. Honestly, what did you think would happen when you kissed me?”

Dean had a hard look. “You kissed me back.”

Castiel’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t deny it.

“Why? Why did you kiss me back if you feel nothing?”

When Castiel looked away, Dean took a step toward him. He stepped back. Dean took another step. “Why did it have to be you?” Castiel said on a strained whisper and stepped back.

Dean’s heart quickened as he sensed he was getting to the heart of the issue. “What do you mean?”

Castiel lifted his gaze to fix Dean with a hard stare. “You were wrong from the start. It’s always been you. But even when you misunderstood, even when you were in love with someone else, I couldn’t let go.”

Understanding struck Dean. “It wasn’t Sam you were interested in.”

“Imagine my surprise when you approached me because I was looking too much at Sam, rather than who was always with him.”

“But...you went out with Sam. You seemed happy.”

Castiel’s jaw clenched. “I was. Sam was kind and compassionate. He made it easier to forget that you were in love with Lisa, that you were straight, that I never had any chance. He was openly bisexual and not ashamed of it. I needed that. I needed to feel like I didn’t have to hide who I am—that I could be free to express affection for another man. But it still all went to shit when you pulled this. All the work I did to get over you...shattered in an instant. It’s just cruel, Dean.”

Dean scowled. “I’m sorry I got it wrong, but I meant everything I said. My feelings for you aren’t a joke.”

“You say that now, but what about later down the line when you realize that you don’t like men? What then? You’re not gay, Dean, or bisexual like Sam. You’re—”

“Enough!” Dean’s hands balled into fists. “I get that you’re scared and angry, but you don’t have any right to invalidate what I feel for you or how I define myself.”

Castiel’s lips thinned to a harsh line. He didn’t reply.

Dean let out a breath slowly. “Do you love him?”

Castiel blinked. “What?”

“Sam. Do you love him?” Dean lowered his gaze. “If you do, I’ll give up now. I won’t get between you two.”

Castiel didn’t speak. Dean couldn’t even hear him breathe. The silence between them seemed like physical weight. After a long minute, Castiel said quietly, “I tried, but…” He trailed off.

Dean returned his eyes to Castiel. “But what?”

Castiel inhaled deeply. “Like I said, it’s always been you.”

When Dean took a step forward, Castiel remained where he was. “It was always me you looked at?”

“I couldn’t seem to look at anyone else.” Castiel stare up at Dean. “This is a bad idea.”

“Probably.”

“Anna’s going to kill you.”

“Definitely.” Dean swept a strand of hair behind Castiel’s ear. “But I don’t care. I want to be with you, Cas. What about you?”

Without warning, Castiel gripped the collar of Dean’s shirt and pulled him down. Their lips met without the hesitance or restraint of their first kiss. Dean let himself sink into it, drowning in the feel of it and not caring if he ever came up for air. The bite of cigarettes lingered on Castiel’s lips along with his natural taste. It filled Dean, taking over his senses, overwhelming him. He threaded a hand through Castiel’s hair.

Maybe this would be complicated. Maybe it wouldn’t work. But Dean wanted to spend every day hearing Castiel’s laugh, feeling the warmth of his body, breathing in his smoky scent. For once, Dean was going to do what he wanted, not what was right or responsible.

When Castiel pulled away, it seemed too soon. “I want this,” he whispered. “I want you.”

Dean smiled. “I thought you’d never say that.”

“Ironic.”

Dean wrapped his arms around Castiel’s waist. “We can do this. I know we can.”

Castiel rested his hands over Dean’s shoulder. “I’m still afraid you’ll wake up one morning and realize you’re straight as a ruler.”

“Haven’t you seen those bendy rulers?”

Castiel frowned. “I’m serious. It’s happened to me before.”

“It won’t happen with me. Just kissing you makes me tremble. Hearing your laugh gets my heart racing. And every time I smell cigarettes, I think about you.”

Castiel’s face reddened. “How can you say such embarrassing things?”

“Because it’s the truth.” Dean cupped Castiel’s cheek. “I don’t want to hesitate anymore. I know what I feel.” He brought their forehead together. “I want to be with you—wholeheartedly.”

Castiel’s hands slid up Dean’s neck. “How do you do this me?”

“Do what to you?”

“Give me courage.” Castiel closed his eyes. “I feel like we’re plunging headlong into the ocean, but...I also feel like we’ll be all right no matter what happens.”

Dean slid a hand over Castiel’s tattooed arm. “Who knows? We may find Saturn in that ocean.”

Castiel let out an amused huff. “And maybe the moon will finally stop crying.”

“Well, he’s got a dove to look after him.” Dean  brought his hand back up to Castiel’s jaw. “Be mine?”

Castiel opened his eyes. “I think I always was.”

#

Sam didn’t know how to react to Dean’s story when his brother told him about what happened with Castiel. In some ways, Sam felt used. Castiel had entered a relationship while in love with Dean, and although Sam had picked Gabe ultimately, it still felt like he’d been lied to.

“Don’t hold a grudge against Cas,” Dean said after finishing his story. He and Sam were sitting on the couch in their living room. “I know you think he was playing you, but Cas really intended to be with you. He wouldn’t have gone through with all this unless he believed he could develop stronger feelings.”

Sam took some comfort in that knowledge, but it still stung a little. “I get it,” he muttered. “It’s fine.”

Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “So...you’re okay with...me and him?”

“It’s weird, but if you two make each other happy, I won’t stand in your way. The heart wants what it wants.” Sam almost laughed at himself for quoting Castiel.

Dean smiled. “Thanks, Sammy.”

“Sure thing.” Sam averted his gaze. “I'm going to finish up my homework. Are you making dinner tonight?”

Dean’s eyes widened. “Oh, shit, I left the chicken on the counter.” He hurried into the kitchen. Sam got up from the couch and headed upstairs to his room. He got out his phone as soon as he sat on the bed. “What’s up?” Gabe asked after two rings.

“Not much,” Sam mumbled. “I just wanted to hear you.”

“Something wrong?”

“I...guess so.”

“Hold on. I’ll be right over.”

“Gabe, you don’t have to—”

“I'm coming over.” The phone clicked out of connection. Sam sighed and sat at his desk to get started on his math homework. Ten minutes later, the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it!” Dean called. Sam heard the door open, then Dean’s directions for Sam’s room, and then Gabe’s feet coming up the stairs. He turned as Gabe walked into his room with a lopsided smile on his face. “What’s got you down, Sam?” he asked and closed the door. “I bet I can kiss it and make it better.”

Sam offered a small smile. “Did you hear about Cas and Dean?”

“What—did they finally kill each other?”

“They’re dating.”

Gabe appeared unfazed. “Yeah, I thought they might.”

Sam’s brows rose. “And you decided to keep this information to yourself?”

Gabe shrugged. “Everyone in our family knew that Cas had a crush on Dean before they became best buds. We were all surprised when he started going out with you. Anna and I had a bet going actually. She bet Dean and Cas would get together, and I bet Cas would stay with you.”

“You bet against yourself?”

“It’s bad luck to bet on yourself. You’ve gotta pay to win.”

Sam shook his head. “That logic makes no sense.”

Gabe grinned and placed his hands on either side of Sam’s chair, hovering over him. “Maybe, but you’re all mine now, aren’t you?”

Sam smiled. “I suppose I am.”

Gabe leaned down and kissed Sam lightly. “Feel better yet?”

Sam sighed. “I don’t know. I still feel like Cas used me to be closer to Dean.”

“Not at all.” Gabe gave Sam a meaning look. “Cas may be a punk, but he’s honest. He would never have dated you if he didn’t intend to end up with you. It’s no one’s fault really that things turned out this way.” He smoothed Sam’s hair back. “But if you want me to kick his ass for you, I will.”

Sam chuckled. “No, I think I’ll be fine with some time.”

“Okay.” Gabe gave Sam a peck on the lips and started to move away, but Sam caught his forearm and pulled him back down. Their lips met softly. Gabe moved slowly, keeping the kiss dry and sweet. Sam wasn’t having it.

“Okay, what are you doing?” he asked, pulling back to look into Gabe’s eyes.

“What do you mean?” Gabe looked genuinely confused.

Sam arched a brow. “This whole gentleness thing you’ve been doing.”

“Oh, that.” Gabe suddenly looked sheepish. “Well, sometimes when I kiss you like I usually do, I get this feeling like I need to get in your pants, and I thought that might be coming on too strong.”

In one movement, Sam stood, pushed Gabe back on the bed, and stretched out on top of him. “Kiss me like you want to. If I don’t like something, you’ll know immediately.”

Gabe stared up at Sam. “How?”

“The coldness of the floor might be a good indicator.”

“Kinky.” Gabe wrapped his arms behind Sam’s neck and pulled him down. He kissed him like he had before—with unrestrained passion. A moan ran up Sam’s throat when Gabe slid his tongue in and out of his mouth with insistent strokes. Sam settled between Gabe’s thighs, giving himself over to everything Gabe offered. He felt dizzy and every nerve in his body was set alight. Gabe’s tongue and touch made it hard to think, when he slid his hands under Sam’s shirt, Sam froze.

Gabe took his hands back as Sam pulled away slightly. “Sorry. I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

Sam straightened. “Oh, hell,” he muttered and pulled his shirt off. Gabe gasped when Sam kissed him again and pushed his shirt up.

“Just how far are you planning to go?” Gabe asked breathlessly against Sam’s lips.

“How far are you willing to go?” Sam licked a curling path down Gabe’s neck, nibbling on the warm flesh every so often.

“Jesus,” Gabe breathed. “You’re pushing it, Winchester. I’m trying to hold back here.”

“That right?” Sam ran a thumb over Gabe’s nipple, eliciting a gasp. “I think that’s the problem.”

“Fine, you asked for it.” Gabe reached up and cupped Sam’s cheek. “I love you.”

Sam’s heart somehow sped even faster than it had been going. “What?”

“I love you.” Gabe ran his thumb over Sam’s cheek. “I don’t expect you to say it back, but I wanted to say it.”

Sam bent and kissed Gabe gently. “I love you, too.”

Gabe smiled against Sam’s lips. “Say it again.”

“I love you.”

“Again.”

Sam laughed. “It’s your turn.”

Gabe took Sam’s face in his hands. “I love you.”

Sam swept Gabe’s hair back from his forehead. “I love you.”


	16. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's an unnecessary, fluffy epilogue for you. Enjoy.

Eleven years later...

Dean walked into his childhood bedroom to find Castiel sitting on his bed. Their luggage lay on the floor by the desk where Dean had spent hours studying in grade school. The trenchcoat Chuck had given Castiel when he’d left for college was folded over the desk chair. “She still asleep?” Castiel asked, fiddling absently with the gold band on his left ring finger. Unconsciously, Dean ran his thumb over the matching ring on his hand.

He closed the door behind him and sat beside Castiel. “I think she might be out for the night.”

“She’s going to be disappointed she missed dinner.” Castiel ran a hand through his hair, messing up the neat shape Dean had spent almost twenty minutes sculpting. Trying to tame Castiel’s hair had always been a futile endeavor. He leaned against Dean and yawned. “We should take a nap, too.”

Dean chuckled. “I think I have too much coffee in me for that.”

Castiel scoffed. “You Winchesters and your coffee.”

“We don’t even have blood. It’s all just coffee.”

“Really? I think that requires medical attention.” Castiel pushed Dean back on the bed, knee between his thighs. “In my professional opinion, I think you need an examination.”

Dean grinned. “What are you going to do to me, doc?”

Castiel bent down down and placed lazy kisses up Dean’s neck. “I was planning a rather invasive procedure.”

“That right?”

Castiel hummed in answer. He brought his head up to kiss Dean slowly. Dean opened his mouth to Castiel, and their tongues slid together in deliberate strokes, movements familiar from years of experience. When they finally pulled away, Dean gained some sense back. “You family’s going to be coming over soon,” he said.

Castiel laid kisses along Dean’s jaw until he came to his ear. “I want to be inside you.”

Dean’s face heated. “Are you even listening to me?”

Castiel chuckled low in his chest. “Do you know how good it feels to have you surrounding me, to be buried in you, to fill you?”

Dean didn’t think it was possible for his face to heat more, but he was fairly sure his skin was going to burst into flame.

“And then I find that spot,” Castiel continued in a husky voice, “and you melt around me.” He rocked his hips in a suggestive rhythm. “And I push it over and over and over until you can’t breathe.”

A moan escaped Dean’s throat when Castiel ground his hips into his. The man was way too good at dirty talk. “You don’t fight fairly,” Dean said breathlessly.

Castiel nuzzled Dean’s neck while sliding a hand down his chest. “All’s fair in love and war.” He ran his thumb over the zipper of Dean’s jeans, earning a soft gasp.

“Why did I fall in love with you?” Dean asked, arching into Castiel’s insistent hand.

Castiel kissed Dean’s lips lightly. “I’m just so charming.”

Dean grabbed Castiel’s thighs and ground their hips together in a slow circle. Castiel’s breath caught, and the arms supporting him on the bed trembled slightly.

“I do think the face you just made was very charming,” Dean teased.

Castiel got a wicked glint in his eye. He kissed Dean fiercely, tongue thrusting in and out, as if in promise of what was to come. Dean met Castiel’s passion with his own, nipping and sucking until he could feel Castiel moaning into his mouth. He missed the lip ring. Castiel had stopped wearing it regularly when he got into med school because of hygiene regulations, and Dean missed the feel of it against his lips. He even missed the taste of cigarettes—another thing Castiel had given up for med school. Still, it was more than good enough to feel Castiel’s lips wholly and taste his natural flavor.

They pulled at each other’s clothes until they lay naked together. Dean had never been one to lay quietly under Castiel, and they wrestled for the top until Castiel pinned Dean’s wrists down on the mattress and made him unable to do much more than pant. They were careful to keep their voices down, and Dean was reminded of spring in high school when he and Castiel had fooled around in his bed, desperately trying to keep their moans in their throats in fear Dean’s parents would hear from downstairs.

When they were spent, they lay in each other’s arms. The sweat had barely dried on their skin when the doorbell rang. Castiel groaned and turned his face into Dean’s neck. “I don’t want to get up,” he mumbled.

Dean chuckled ran his hand through Castiel’s hair. “Don’t you want to see your family again? It’s been a while.”

“You’re my family, too.”

Dean bent his head and kissed Castiel lightly. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Castiel cupped Dean’s cheek. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Probably become a very successful pediatrician with a hotter husband.”

Castiel chuckled. “Probably.”

Dean poked Castiel in the ribs.

“Dean! Cas!” Mary called from downstairs. “Come down! Everyone’s here!”

Castiel sighed and untangled himself Dean. He stood and started searching for his clothes. Dean remained where he was. Castiel glanced back at him curiously. “Aren’t you going to get up?” he asked.

Dean looked Castiel up and down. “Just appreciating the view.”

Castiel rolled his eyes and chucked a Metallica shirt at Dean’s face. “We’ll have plenty of time for that tonight,” he said.

They quickly dressed, made sure each other’s hair wasn’t too mussed, and headed downstairs. An eleven-year-old blond girl in black cargo pants, a camouflage tank top, and combat boots stood between Michael and Lucifer. She had a sour expression, but it softened when she saw Castiel and Dean. She jumped up and hugged the two of them. “You made it this time!” she burst.

Castiel chuckled. “Hey, Ellie. It’s good to see you, too.”

Dean narrowed his eyes at her. “Did you grow again, kiddo?”

“Yep. I’m almost five-foot-two.”

Michael smiled. “She inherited her mother’s height genes.”

Lucifer frowned at the mention of Ellie’s mother. Esther had died in labor, so Lucifer had taken the role of Ellie’s mother, living with his brother to help take care of the child. Michael had never remarried, and Lucifer hadn’t shown an interest in romance at all. Their situation was comfortable. But Lucifer had once admitted to Dean over a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon that he wished Ellie had a mother to teach her about female things. Dean shared his concerns.

“Uncle Dean,” Ellie said, “can you braid my hair again? Daddy does it wrong, and Lucy pulls too hard.”

Dean chuckled. “Sure. How about after dinner?”

“Yay! Thank you!”

“I’m telling you, Gabe,” Sam said, walking up the snowy front lawn toward the open front door, “it’s better to get children studying early.”

Gabe walked beside Sam with a frown on his face. Although they seemed to be arguing, they held hands. Matching silver bands glinted on their left ring fingers. “Children are supposed to play and laugh and have fun,” Gabe asserted. “Academics can wait.”

They walked through the door. As soon as Gabe saw Castiel, he said, “Cas, you’re a doctor. Is it better to start cramming information down kids’ throats when they’re two, or should we just wait until school starts?”

Castiel cocked a brow. “Why? Are you guys planning to adopt soon?”

“It’s come up a couple times,” Sam said with a shrug.

Castiel quirked his lips in thought. After a moment, he said, “Well, young children are like sponges for information. There’s studies that suggest children who learn two or more languages before the age of three have greater cognitive performance and critical thinking skills.”

Sam smirked at Gabe.

“But,” Castiel continued, “children also require fun and nurturing in their early years to promote their psychological health.”

Gabe smirked at Sam.

“That being said,” Castiel added, earning grimaces from both Sam and Gabe, “I don’t see a reason why you can’t have both fun and learning.”

Sam and Gabe exchanged a glance. “I think we can work something out,” Gabe said.

Sam nodded. “Thanks, Cas.”

Castiel smiled. He was about to speak when an explosion of red hair slammed into him. “I haven’t seen you in forever!” Anna squealed, hugging her brother in a rib-crushing hold.

“Anna...can’t...breath,” Castiel huffed.

She let him go and turned to Dean. “You look like you just got out of a blizzard.” She tried to smooth his hair down, but gave up after a moment and hugged him. “Only been two hours since you got here, and you and Cas are going at it?” she whispered into his ear. “Nice.”

Dean’s cheeks heated. Anna pulled away and looked back at her older brothers. “Ellie, aren’t you cold?” she asked.

Ellie shook her head, looking perfectly at ease in her tanktop. “I’m fine.”

Anna rolled her eyes and went to the doorway. “Dad! Hurry up! We’re letting all the heat out!”

“I’m coming!” Chuck shuffled up the walkway, wrapped in a large jacket. His hair was mostly gray now, and the wrinkles on his face were more prominent than they had been a decade ago. He was in his mid-sixties now and just a little slower than he had been when Dean had first met him.

Anna closed the door when her father walked in. Castiel hugged him, then Dean. “You two look good,” Chuck said. “How are you doing?”

“We’re good,” Dean said and wrapped an arm around Castiel’s waist.

Castiel smiled. “Better than good.”

“That’s great to hear,” Chuck said with a wide smile.

Mary walked in from the living room. “Oh, good, you’re all inside,” she said. “Dinner’s going to be served in the front room.”

The entire family moved to the front room, a lounge-like space with beige carpet and dark red sofas. A large dining table stretched across the back wall. Dean and Cas sat together across from Sam and Gabe. Anna sat beside Ellie with Michael and Lucifer on either side of them. Chuck sat beside Dean.

“Oh, Ellie, I almost forgot,” Castiel said and pulled out a folded piece of paper from his pocket. He handed it to her. “I sketched it on the plane.”

Ellie unfolded the paper. It was a sketch of Ellie holding her cat up. “Can I keep it?” she asked with barely contained glee.

“Of course.”

She beamed. “Thank you, Uncle Cas!”

Dean frowned. “How come you don’t draw me anymore?”

Castiel shrugged, but he had a teasing smile. “It’s hard to draw perfection.”

“You’re full of shit.”

Castiel chuckled and kissed Dean’s cheek.

“Oh, good God,” Gabe groaned. “Would you two keep your newlywed crap to yourselves? You’re not even married.”

Dean grimaced. “We have an official date now for February 16th.”

“Is that ‘official’ like last year?” Sam asked with an amused smile. “You’re not going to push it back another six months again, are you?”

“We have busy lives,” Castiel said.

Mary walked in and took a seat at the head of the table. “Marriage is just a piece of paper with some legal benefits anyway,” she said. “I was with John for almost fifteen years before we got married because work kept us busy. Dean was three by then. Nothing changed after we got married, except my last name.”

Gabe sighed. “But they’ve already got the rings and a kid.” He looked around. “Speaking of which, where is the little one?”

“Sleeping,” Dean said. “She was exhausted by the trip.”

“It’s only a four hour flight from California, isn’t it?” said Sam.

Castiel nodded. “Yeah, but she woke up early today and didn’t sleep on the plane.”

John walked in with a plate of steaks and laid them on the table. “Mashed potatoes and gravy are on the way,” he said. “Salad still needs to be washed.”

“Thank you, sweetie,” Mary said. They smiled at each other fondly.

“So, Sam,” Lucifer started, “how do you like being civil rights attorney?”

Sam let out an amused huff. “The pay is awful, but I like what I do. It’s rewarding.”

“Yes, and then I pay all the bills,” Gabe grumbled.

“Oh, please,” said Anna. “You make plenty off your books.”

He smiled wryly. “Great writing must run in the family.”

Chuck smiled at that.

John returned with a bowl of mashed potatoes and a gravy boat. He set them on the table and left again. “Do you really want me to bring in more money?” Sam asked Gabe. “I can join another firm if we’re tight on money.”

Gabe’s eyes widened. “God, no, don’t do that. I mean, look at Luc. He’s miserable.”

“Hey!” Lucifer protested.

Gabe ignored him and continued, “No, you do good, Sam, and you’re happy. Money’s not an issue at all.”

Sam kissed Gabe’s cheek. “Good.”

When John came back with salad and a bowl of carrots, a little girl scurried into the room. She ran up to Dean and climbed into his lap. “What are you doing up?” he asked and wrapped his arms around her.

She ignored him and stared at the carrots with big, blue eyes. Her blond hair stuck up at wild angles in a bedhead that rivaled Castiel’s. Dean smoothed it down, combing through it gently with his fingers, while Castiel handed her a carrot. She nibbled on it.

“Hi, Claire,” Anna said with a smile. “Do you remember me?”

The four-year-old nodded. “Aunt Anna,” she mumbled and continued to nibble on her carrot.

Anna grinned. Castiel pointed to Gabe and Sam. “Claire, do you remember them?” he asked.

Claire gave her father an unimpressed look, which probably was because Dean and Castiel visited Sam and Gabe in Los Gatos from Campbell every weekend. “Uncle Sam and Gabe,” she said.

Dean pointed to his father. “That’s Grandpa.” He pointed to his mother. “That’s Grandma.” He pointed to Chuck. “That’s also Grandpa.”

She frowned. “How come there’s two?”

“Because that grandpa—” Dean pointed to his father— “is my dad. And that grandpa—” He pointed to Chuck— “is Papa’s dad.”

She nodded and nibbled on her carrot thoughtfully. Ellie tossed something to Dean. He caught it easily and opened his hand to look at it. It was a hair tie. “You can give it back to me later,” she said.

Dean smiled. “Thank you, Ellie.” She gave him a brief nod.

Conversation flowed around the table while Dean braided his daughters hair. Claire had been something of a happy accident. Four years ago, when Castiel had first begun his residency, a pregnant woman had admitted herself into the E.R. with no I.D. and gone into labor within hours. She’d killed herself after her daughter was born, and no one came forward to claim kinship to the woman. Castiel had been responsible for looking after the child for a time. When the baby had been put up for adoption, he’d convinced Dean to take her in.

Dean had been twenty-five at the time, and Castiel had been twenty-four. If not for the corporate software engineer job Dean had gotten, they wouldn’t have had the money to adopt Claire, and although Dean didn’t like his job, he was thankful that it let him have Claire. Things were easier now that Castiel was done with his residency. They were making good money and living comfortably. They’d even started talking about adopting a boy.

When Dean finished braiding his daughter’s hair, he kissed the top of her head. Castiel took his napkin and wiped carrot fragments from the corners of her lips. “She needs a bath tonight,” he said. “I’m pretty sure she rolled on the airport floor.”

“Well, even if she hadn’t, I think mushrooms are sprouting up from her car seat. I found crushed Goldfish in the crevices of that thing. And I don’t mean like a couple crumbs. I swear this kid just took handfuls of Goldfish and shoved them into her car seat.”

Castiel shook his head with a sigh. “You’re definitely getting a bath, missy.”

Claire grinned, and he placed a hand on Dean’s thigh to support his weight while he leaned over and kissed her cheek. When he straightened, he kept his hand where it was. Dean gripped it, feeling the gold ring on the love of his life’s finger.


End file.
